


And There I Shall Be

by blayson



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fix-It, M/M, Virgin Thorin, never been kissed thorin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 21:42:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1914837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blayson/pseuds/blayson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a fool's promise, really.  Thorin had always said that if he truly did right by his people, he wouldn't do it in halves.  He would be a true king and find a consort.  Because a king on a throne without a consort, to his people, was a great shame.  Thorin, however, never did think he'd ever see the day where he was King Under the Mountain.  He also never thought he'd find his One in the form of a burglar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. For There is Pain in Death

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first time posting anything I've written publicly. So be gentle. I don't have a beta as of yet, I'm working on it, so any mistakes are my own. (Let me know where they are and I'll edit them!) If you know a beta, send them my way! Hope you guys enjoy! Oh, do yourself a favor. DON'T look up gangrene. 
> 
> Playlist for this chapter: The Flying Club Cup - Beirut

Throughout his life, Thorin had thought much on death. But not just his, everyone's around him, too. He had been faced with such blatant death and destruction after Erebor was taken that he couldn't help but think on the mortality of others. How easily death came down upon a life, like it didn't matter at all, as if it were never a life that existed in the first place. The only way anyone knew that such a life existed at all was the grief, the mourning, the pain of those left behind.

He saw death be bestowed upon others, not himself, so he never applied these thoughts upon his own life. Until the Battle of Azanulbizar.

The beheading of his grandfather and subsequent loss of his father to grief hit him far harder than he ever would have realized. He had grieved before, yes. But for warriors who's names he had never remembered or met. He grieved for families he had no personal connection to other than the fact that their husbands, brothers, and sons had been dwarven brothers in arms. He sympathized with them but did not share in their familial pain.

Seeing the death of someone he loved so deeply made him understand that pain. It made him see the grief with his own eyes. His eyes were red, but not from tears. No, he didn't have time to shed those tears. The redness was in anger that something so awful, so cruel, could happen to someone he held so utterly dear. He was angry that, his entire life, he was raised as a prince to become king, as someone above the people, to lead them because they could not lead themselves. He was angry that, in these teachings, he was lied to. He was deceived.

Because none of that mattered when he was not so mighty as to escape death. He wasn't special. In this, and everything else, he was just like all those around him. He finally had to face the fact that even he had to look death in the eye one day. The more he thought on this, the more his anger lessened. He almost because calm about the fact that one day he would pass on. It was inevitable that he would die, he wasn't immortal like the elves. He wouldn't want to be, either. He couldn't imagine going on with life after having experienced death that left a hollow feeling in your core. He didn't know how anyone could go on forever, knowing that time only changed the emotional wounds of death, not heal them.

The realization this his own death would eventually come made him see that, to be a good king, he would have to be of his people, not over them. He couldn't lead them, he couldn't sit on a throne and be content. No, he would guide his people, being a beacon where they needed him to be. He would be equals with them. He wouldn't treat himself as someone who lorded over them. Because in death, everyone was equal.

Thorin knew, though he couldn't explain how he knew it, that he would die in battle. The knowledge of this felt right in his gut. He could see it, though it wasn't a prophetic vision, plain as the mountain they'd been driven out of, that he would die surrounded by destruction and the death of others. This knowledge did not bother him at all. He thought it fitting, that he die with those he considered his equals.

What he had never considered, however, when had been thinking upon death, was how painful it would be. While he had no clear picture of how death would be, he never considered the pain. He'd thought that, once dead, you passed on only to be reunited with your forefathers and all would be well.

This was not so. Nothing was well when it came to death.

For one, he could feel everything. Every wound that had been dealt to him. Every wet, shaking breath he tried to draw in. Every dried over cut opening back up as his body moved. Every nerve in his body was alight with oversensitivity and awareness of pain.

He thought, surely, it must come to some sort of end. But it never did. The pain was always there, barely lingering on the edge of his subconscious, until it snapped back into place like the crack of a whip.

Pain wasn't the only thing he didn't like about death. No, it was the visions, too. He saw everyone. Balin and Dwalin were the most frequent visions he had. The rest of the company came around, too. Óin came frequently, though he was fussing about this and that every time Thorin saw him. When he started seeing Dís, he knew he was being punished for something he did in his life and was being kept in some sort of purgatory, because surely his sister hadn't passed on with him. He wouldn't be surprised though, what with the death of her husband, brother, and parents all at such a young age, that she had faded upon hearing of his death.

There were three people which he hadn't seen, but had expected to, that troubled him. Two where his nephews. The last of Fili and Kili he'd seen, they'd been protecting him, bodily, till the very end. It was their boots that he'd seen as he fell. It was their cries of anguish that he'd heard as all sound around him turned to nothing. It was their blood from their wounds that was dripping to the ground he'd seen as the entire world went black around him. It was their deaths he would feel most guilty about. He'd promised Dis that he would return her sons safe to her. He'd failed her like he'd failed so many others. Perhaps that's why he was being punished. He would have punished himself if he could for not protecting his nephews.

The other of the three was Bilbo Baggins, their burglar. Who had, in fact, made a fine burglar of himself in the end. Of course, Thorin never did appreciate that. He'd been so blind with rage and gold lust that he didn't see, wouldn’t see, that the hobbit had only been doing what was best for all of them. Bilbo had been protecting every single one of them the only way he knew how. He'd done a better job protecting Fili and Kili by doing nearly nothing than Thorin had by leaving them in Laketown. Thorin had nearly killed Bilbo in his rage. Even in death, Thorin could still feel the guilt that brought upon him.

So yes, Thorin knew he was dead. He now knew that he was being punished for all the wrong he'd done to those he deeply cared for. Even in death, he knew he deserved every single vestige of pain that flowed through mind and body. For he was a horrible person, and even he would never forgive himself.

The only point in which he thought he might not be dead was when a fog seemed to have lifted and, just for the briefest of moments, he could hear the harsh yelling of Dis. He would like to think that it was at him, because even if she was fussing, it was still a comfort to hear her voice that he was so used to and comforted by.

“Stubborn, he is always so stubborn. Can't do anything simply, can he? He's always been like that. You tell him, because I know he can hear us, that he either needs to pass on or wake up. Either one at this point really, I don't think my heart can bear anymore of seeing him like this. It's not natural, him looking like he does. He's just being...”

The rest of her triad was cut off because he felt a hand against his forearm and suddenly, it was as if the world around him exploded. There was searing heat all around him. Every time he took a breath, it was violet and felt like he was breathing in the very flames of the dragon Smaug. His entire body was vibrating, the pain shooting through his body so intensely it left his mouth widening in silent, horrifying screams. He could feel hands on him that might as well have been shackles holding him down, breaking him, hurting him. Why didn't they understand that they were hurting him? Why didn't they understand that the room was on fire? Why couldn't they see that he couldn't breath? Why weren't these people, his friends, that were surrounding him helping him? Why were they holding him down?

The whys and blur of people that seemed so very real came crashing down around him, into complete and utter despair of darkness, when something cool was pressed to his lips and forced down his throat. After that, he knew no more. Not even the pain of death. For Thorin knew, that there was pain in death. 

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

The next time Thorin became aware, he knew for sure that, somehow he had not died. Because, while there was still pain that nearly made him choke on his own breath, there was an ease to the pain that hadn't been there before. It was the blunted edge of a knife pressing to skin knowing it wouldn't cut if handled correctly. There was a coolness to the air around him that let him know he was naked but for a sheet across his lap to protect his privacy. Which meant that Dis was in the room somewhere after all. He would have laughed at that if he could. Leave it to his company to try and protect the sensibilities of his sister who knew more about him than the entire company put together. 

His skin felt cracked and dry, though it was covered in something thick. The smell of it wafted up to his nose, holding a minty smell. No doubt Óin had rubbed a healing ointment over his numerous battle wounds. It left him feeling dirty and sticky. It wasn't a sensation he ever liked. He must have acquired more injuries than he remembered if the feeling encompassed most of his body.

Opening his eyes, he knew immediately that he was in Erebor, though he was surprised the royal personal chambers survived Smaug well enough that his old chambers were deemed well enough to house his healing body in. His chambers had been close enough to the surface of the mountain that he'd been afforded a balcony. The wooden doors had been opened so the cool air of autumn came in, cooling his overheated body off. There were beams of light falling across the bed, painting his sickly skin in golden hues. 

Of the three people in the room, Dis, Balin, and Oin, none of them noticed Thorin's eyes opening, blinking groggily into awareness. They did notice, however, his painful sharp intake of breath as he tried to move. 

There were immediately hands on him, holding him down. But this time, it didn't hurt as it had last time. Instead of the trapped, shackled feeling, it was comforting. Softer, gentler hands ran down the side of his face, pushing his hair back, soothing him. “At peace, Thorin,” came the ever familiar voice of Dis. “You are safe and amongst friends. You no longer have to fight, brother.”

For the second time in his life after knowing darkness from injury, his first words were of someone else. Someone no one expected. “Bilbo?” he asked, his voice raspy from disuse. 

“The Halfling?” Dis asked, confused as to why her brother would be concerned over the hobbit over all else.

“Where is he?” His heart was pounding. He knew he'd banished Bilbo from the mountain, but he'd also see him in his tent in the battlefield. Bilbo had looked utterly torn. Thorin wouldn't have been surprised if Bilbo had left the same day, trying to get away from the very dwarf that had tried to kill him. But Thorin could only hope that something had stayed Bilbo, and that the hobbit was still within Erebor.

“He's alright, laddie,” Balin provided. “He's still in the mountain. He didn't want to leave until he learned of your fate.”

Thorin's entire body let go of a tenseness he didn't even know he was holding. Even this breaths, though still pained, came easier. He looked to Dis, who was still petting his hair, with guilt in his eyes. “I must talk to Balin alone.”

“You just wo...”

“Please,” he pleaded. “I need something done and I'm tired. I can barely keep my eyes open. Grant me this, sister, please.”

She wanted to protest, of this Thorin could tell. But she also knew how steadfast he could be. She'd grown up with the dwarf and knew when to push and when to pull. She knew that right now was one of those times where she had to pull back and let her brother do what he needed. She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his forehead. “I will be right outside the door with Óin. You will call me if you need us. Do no over exert yourself. Do not get up.” She leveled him with her fiercest gaze, one normally reserved for Fili or Kili, so he knew not to argue. All Thorin could do was nod.

She ran her fingers through his hair once more before getting up, looping her around around the healers elbow and guiding them out of Thorin's personal chambers.

“You've been down for thirty-four days, Thorin,” Balin began. “We've already had some of our kin come in support of you. Merchants, miners, workers and the like to reconstruct Erebor, mind you. But they're all here, just the same.”

That wasn't was Thorin was interested in, though. It was wonderful news that dwarves were already coming into Erebor to make it home again, but that would mean nothing to their customs if he was a lone king on his throne. If he made it through. He was still hurt after all, and he could feel every broken bone and puncture in his body. He could feel himself starting to shut down again, the edges of his vision going blurry and dark again. 

“Do you remember the promise I made so long ago? About when I finally did right by our people and took back the mountain?”

Thorin could see Balin trying to figure out what promise this could be, because Thorin had made many in his days. When the realization finally came over Balin's face, he nearly blanched. “Thorin, no. You don't have to do that. You've done far more than admirably by our people. You've reclaimed their homeland. You're on your deathbed, which had better become your sick bed now that you're awake. They wouldn't dream to ask more of you. You don't have marry based on tradition and promises made. It won't matter to them that you're...”

“It'll matter to me,” Thorin said a little more sternly than he should have, causing him to lean back into his pillows with a groan. Balin had started to to get up to settle him back into the bed. “It matters to me,” he said again, but quieter. 

“Why does it matter to you so much that you fulfill this?”

Thorin wanted to sit up, but his energy was depleting by the second. He knew he wouldn't last much longer. “I need to see this through, Balin. I've already picked someone.”

“You can't have picked someone so fast, Thorin. Don't force yourself into this!”

“It's my One,” he protested, though his voice was growing weaker. “I've found my One, Balin.”

“Bilbo," Balin said plainly. It was a statement, not a question. He'd always wondered about the two since the carrock, but now he was wondering just how far back Thorin's feelings for the hobbit had gone. 

“Yes,” Thorin confirmed anyways. “I need you to insure that he stays in Erebor for my courtship announcement.” 

“Thorin, now, I must advise against this. Bilbo is a hobbit, he will not be familiar with the traditional courtship rules of our royal families.”

“Then someone will teach him.”

“What if he says no.”

“If he says no, he may leave Erebor and I will never bother him again. But I must ask. I must present him with the offer. I must.  I have to know Balin, or I will never recover from this battle properly.”

“And you're insisting on this? I must make sure, Thorin. You must tell me that you are absolutely sure of this.”

“Balin, I have never been so sure of something in my life.”

Balin let out a sigh that spoke of his years. He was used the stubbornness of this particular dwarf, but in this, he knew Thorin would have his heart broken. In their culture, it wasn't uncommon for two dwarf-men to couple together considering their men far outnumbered their women. But he knew in Hobbit culture it was looked down upon for two people of the same sex to couple. Even risking banishment from the community. 

He knew Thorin, though. He knew the other dwarf wouldn't rest properly until he saw this through. “You would like me to insure he stays long enough to be present for the announcement?”

“Yes, I don't care what you have to say or not say to insure that he is there.”

“And if he won't stay?”

“Then get him to come see me. If he sees me, I know he will stay.”

Balin gave him one his measuring looks that held too much knowledge. “I would not do this for anyone else.”

“I know,” Thorin replied, feeling the tiredness slowly take over him. “And I would not trust anyone else with this task.”

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Bilbo was perfectly content to stare into the dying fire. He'd been doing a lot of that for the last four weeks, staring, thinking, worrying. He knew he should probably get up and stoke the fire. It was autumn and the air was getting chilly outside as well as in the mountain. The only source of heat in his rooms came from the very fireplace he was staring into. It was creeping into his bones at such a rate that his tired limbs were hurting. 

He was surprised he had rooms at all. After Thorin had banished him, he was prepared to leave and go back to the Shire. Where he belonged. But when he heard from Óin that there was life yet, although just barely there, in Thorin, he'd decided then and there to stay until he knew the dwarf was dead or alright. He'd been prepared to sleep on the stone floors near the entrance. It was there that Bofur had found him setting up a bed roll and had gone into a right fit. 

“What do you think you're doing?” came his surprised voice. “Sleeping on the floor where anyone could get to you!”

“Bofur, I've been banished,” he'd explained surprisingly calmly. Though that could have accounted to the fact that he was tired and worn out. He was tired of fighting and even fighting with Bofur over this was taking what little energy he had out of him. “I'm surprised no one has kicked me out where I am here.”

It was then that Bilbo saw anger flash over Bofur's face, something he'd never seen before and never wished to see again.  He spoke to Bilbo as if he were the king under the mountain and not Thorin. “I will  _not_ have a member of our company sleeping on the floor like a common beggar. You get up, right this instant Bilbo Baggins, and you come with me and get a room proper.”

Bilbo nearly cried when the rest of the company had vehemently agreed. Although, he didn't take the rooms he'd been initially offered. They were something in the original royal halls and far too fancy and immaculate for him. Besides, they only reminded him of Thorin. He'd taken a simpler room, something close enough to the royal chambers that he could find his way, but far away enough so that he could make a run for it should Thorin wake and find out he was here. Those chambers didn't even have a fire place.

He'd only taken up the room he was in now when the dwarves of old had found out the mountain had been taken back and were making a mass exodus back to their homeland. More and more people had been showing up to rebuild the mountain kingdom. There was hardly any undamaged room to house them all, so naturally the company wanted Bilbo moved to a room that matched his 'status' amongst them. It was Fili, the standing king until Thorin's fate was known, who had put his foot down. Bilbo for once didn't refuse because it was the first sign of emotion he'd seen on Fili's face since the dwarf had awoken from his own injuries. 

Bilbo sighed heavily, a world of troubling thoughts upon his shoulders. One of the first convoys of arriving dwarves had brought Dis. She was a sight to behold. Beautiful for a dwarven woman, but with clear traces of the Durin blood in her. In the dark, Bilbo would have thought that she and her brother were one and the same if it weren't for the fact that Thorin had more facial hair.  They had the same profile. It seemed that distinctive nose was passed down through the line. Amongst other things, the hardheadedness and hotheadedness. But in Dis, Bilbo saw a permanent sadness in her eyes that spoke of loss Thorin had not yet experienced. Looking closer at her, Bilbo noticed a thick band of leather on her wrist that looked like it belonged to a male. It was then that Balin had explained the loss of her husband, Fili and Kili's father, and that the leather cuff had been his. 

He couldn’t imagine what had gone through her head when she had to be told that her brother was on his deathbed, no one knowing if he would wake or not. Then, only to be told of the fate of her sons. Both of them had come out of battle wounded, barely scraping by with their lives, but it was Kili that had come out worse for wear. His leg that had suffered the Morgul blade had been, once again, injured in battle, only this time beyond repair. It had been amputated just below the knee, where it had been gashed open by an orc's bloodied and muddied blade. Infection had set in fast, gangrene quick to follow. The limb had been amputated to keep the infection from getting into his bloodstream. 

It was the first time Bilbo had ever truly seen the life flee from Kili's normally happy face. When Fili had found out about his brother's fate and sorrow over the leg, his mood had quickly followed that of his brother's. It didn't get any better when Thorin wouldn't rouse from the sleep he'd entered. Neither brother had smiled or showed much emotion since. Fili hadn't left Kili's side once unless he was bodily dragged by Dwalin.  It was not something Bilbo liked to see on either of the brother's faces. He wished there was something he could do for any of them. But they were all stubborn. There was nothing he could do, so he was left idle, staring into his fire most nights with just his thoughts that grew darker and darker. 

The knock on his chamber doors startled him from his reverie so much so that he jumped. “Enter!” he said, his hand going over his rapidly beating heart. 

Balin entered slowly, for the first time acting timid around Bilbo, which made the hobbit eye him warily. When Balin spoke, Bilbo knew why and his shoulders fell.

“Thorin has awoken. He is still in pain and quite tired. It is still touch and go, but he is aware.” Balin said this as if he were telling Bilbo Thorin had died instead of waking. 

“I see,” he replied plainly. He moved from his chair, going over towards his pack and shoving things into it with little care. 

Balin's bushy white eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. “What are you doing, Laddie. I thought you'd glad to hear of it.”

Bilbo let his shoulders slump. He stopped his packing only long enough to turn and say, “Thorin banished me. He doesn't want me here. Now that I know he'll more than likely make it through, I'm leaving. I'm saving myself the hurt of going through that again.” He turned his back on Balin, going back to his packing.

“You must stay.” Balin had moved to his side now, just on the edges of Bilbo's vision. “At least for another month. Thorin has an announcement to make and he requested you be there.”

Bilbo turned his head, gazing at Balin with suspicious eyes. “He woke up from a healing sleep to tell you this? That he wanted me at an announcement of his?  Of all the things he could have said, that was it?”  The disbelief was evident in his voice.  


“Yes. You must stay. If not for him, then for the rest of the company. They'll be there, too.”

“Why should I stay in a kingdom where the king wants me dead?” Bilbo all but spat.

Balin sighed a troubled sigh. He knew this would happen, but had come for Thorin anyway. “If you do nothing for me for the rest of your life, Bilbo Baggins, will you at least do one thing for me. Just one more thing and I will leave you be. I'll even have you escorted safely back to your hole in the Shire.”

Bilbo pushed his pack away and pinched the bridge of nose. “I've had enough of confounded dwarves for one lifetime,” he mumbled under his breath. But Balin knew that Bilbo was giving in. And Bilbo knew that Balin knew that Bilbo was giving in by the look on the old dwarf's face. “Fine! Fine! One last thing and then I want to go home.”

“Follow me, then,” Balin said with far too haughty a smirk on his face.

Bilbo followed, though he did it begrudgingly with a frown on his face the entire time. He'd never been to Thorin's personal chambers, only Fili and Kili's, so he didn't know in advance to where he was being led. He only knew that the air around them once entering the antechamber smelt thickly medicinal. 

“Balin, who's chambers are these?” Bilbo asked as the chamber doors were opened. He stopped dead in his tracks once he was in the room proper, finally getting a view of who exactly was housed in these rooms.

Thorin. His heart dropped into his stomach at the site of Thorin laying in the middle of a large bed, only a sheet covering him to keep his privacy. He wouldn't have known the dwarf was alive if Balin hadn't told him. Thorin was far thinner than when Bilbo had last seen him. His eyes and cheeks were sunk in, dark shadows forming across his face. The only reason Bilbo knew for sure that Thorin was actually alive was because of the unsteady rise and fall of a heavily bandaged chest. Dis was sitting on the opposite side of the bed, speaking to Thorin in hushed Khuzdul that Bilbo couldn't understand. 

He went completely unnoticed until he let out a strangled whimper that attracted two sets of eyes, though Bilbo wasn't paying attention to Dis at all. It was Thorin's eyes that his own were locked with, just as plain and clear a blue as the first time he'd ever seen the dwarf, though perhaps more tired. There was no doubt in his mind upon seeing Thorin's expression that any gold lust or dragon sickness that might have been there at all was long gone. The dwarf on the bed wasn't the menacing terror that had threatened to kill him. That was the dwarf that had saved his life by jumping over a cliff. That was the dwarf that had embraced him so warmly on the carrock. That was the Thorin that he had gone on a journey with. Stubborn, angry, bitter, resilient, but oh so much Thorin. 

Bilbo whimpered again when Thorin lifted his hand, though it clearly pained the dwarf to do so, and reached out for him. “Bilbo,” came the hoarse voice from cracked lips and a dry throat. But it was loud enough to Bilbo to hear.  What was surprising was that no one in the room commented on the sound of what Bilbo was sure was his heart cracking in two. 

He stepped back, knocking into Balin and nearly stumbling. Turning, breaking that gaze that held him transfixed, he ran from the room until he was in the hallway. He pushed his back to the wall and sank down, hugging his knees to him. 

Balin quietly came out into the hallway. “Laddie, are you alright? You're acting like you've seen a right ghost. But I assure you, Thorin is very much alive.”

Bilbo looked up at him, his eyes red with tears he refused to shed. His voice, though cracking, was sure in the words.  “I will stay. I will stay for however long you need me to. Because that...that dwarf in there. That is _my_ Thorin.”


	2. A Hobbit of No Importance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An announcement ceremony of great importance to the line of Durin takes place. The entire company is being quite secretive towards Bilbo, making his uneasy. And Bombur, of course, is of no help to a hobbit that just needs a little air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, lovelies, thanks for all the kudos! I'm amazed that so many people are reading this and enjoying it so far. I'm waiting for the day someone thinks it sucks and lets me know. Once again, not beta'd, so all mistakes are mine. If you catch any, please feel free to let me know and I will fix them as soon as I can.  
> Below is what I listened to while writing this chapter. I always find it fascinating to know what people listen when they write, but if you guys don't care to see it, let me know and I'll stop putting it down.
> 
> Chapter Playlist:  
> Someone Else's Baby - Will Hoge  
> Someday My Prince Will Come - Anya Marina  
> Fear of the South - Tin Hat Trio  
> La Valse De Virginie - Gregory Page  
> All the Wild Horses - Ray LaMontagne  
> World at Large - Modest Mouse  
> Time to Pretend - MGMT  
> Sleeping Diagonally - Iron & Wine

Bilbo was shortly coming to realize that all he ever did in Erebor was fret. It wasn't just over the big things, either. There were small things here and there that had his mind spinning in so many directions it made him dizzy.

Like the cold.

Laketown had been nearly freezing, but it was nothing compared to the chill of the mountain in autumn. It seemed to seep into the very stone of the mountain surrounding him, mocking his love of sunshine and everything green. He had a fire going in his rooms constantly and even then he could feel the cold nipping at his toes. It was no wonder dwarves wore so many layers. It was clear, Erebor was no place for a Hobbit.

But this brought on another concern. The cold inside was matching the cold that was quickly coming outside. Bilbo had meant to leave after the battle, but couldn't make himself do so. He had to know the fate of the line of Durin. Every day he stayed, though, meant another day traveling ever so dangerously close to winter. If he didn't leave soon, he'd have to stay until spring hit. That was not something Bilbo was much looking forward to. Just because Thorin was himself now, didn't mean the dwarf would be himself in a month's time.

That was another thing, wasn't it? Thorin. The dwarf had never been overly friendly to him. Though he'd felt as if they'd come to an understanding towards the end, Bilbo even counting Thorin as a close acquaintance, they were by no means close like hand Bofur were.  But he didn't think that he and Thorin were close enough that Bilbo would be asked to be an audience at an official royal announcement ceremony.

Balin had explained the importance of the upcoming announcement to him in oddly lacking detail. It was a day that was preceded by a weeks worth of celebrations, feasts, and great merriment. Of course, with the current state of Erebor, none of that would be possible. At the weeks' end, vendors and merchants alike would shut down their shops and miners would would put down their hammers. The entirety of the mountain was given a day of rest so everyone could gather in the great hall to hear the great announcement. It was something done for every monarch on the throne since the beginning of the line of Durin.

All of this was explained to Bilbo, emphasizing its great importance in dwarven culture. When Bilbo asked what such an announcement entailed, Balin shut his mouth, doing his best to change the subject. He asked several times, each time his question going unanswered. It flustered him beyond belief, making him huff in frustration.

“If this announcement is so important to that dwarf, why is he so adamant that I come at all?  I am of no great importance to him!”

Balin's eye gained a mischievous sparkle that rivaled even Gandalf's. Bilbo knew that it couldn't mean anything good for him. “Laddie, lets just say that you are far more important to Thorin than you realize.”

The entire ordeal had been far too cryptic for Bilbo's taste. It had even sent a full body shiver down his spine. What made the entire situation even more nerve wracking was the fact that Dis wanted an audience with him. He hadn't even processed the information yet when he got the summons from Dori.

He'd been avoiding the meeting for as long as he possibly could, but knew if he waited much longer he would just be summoned again. Most likely by the dwarf herself. It was why he was caught slowly shuffling his feet down the hall by an elf, no less. Bilbo had to raise an eyebrow questioningly at her. For one, there was an elf in Erebor. Bilbo knew that Thorin wouldn't be overly thrilled to know of her presence inside the mountain. Two, she was alarmingly beautiful, a striking contrast to how she was standing. She was ramrod straight, standing at attention that was befitting a guard. She was an perfect fix of elegance and strength that Bilbo couldn't help but be enthralled by.

The closer he got to her, he realized that she was standing guard after all. She was outside Kili's rooms, which was where Bilbo was told Dis would be. As to why and elf would be standing guard to a dwarven prince of Erebor was beyond him. She was so achingly familiar, too. Like he'd met her before but hadn't managed to get her name.

The assumption was proven correct when she stepped in front of him as he made to enter Kili's chambers. He looked up at her, not at all intimidated by her attempt to be imposing. Did she not know he'd faced down the worst of Thorin's ire? Her look of annoyed anger didn't hold a flame to Thorin's icy glare on the best of days.

“Might I help you?” he asked, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Prince Kili lies within these chambers.” She'd tried to go for a plain disinterest, but even Bilbo could hear the tired sadness in her voice.

“I am aware,” he replied, his eyes examining her perhaps more shrewdly than need be. “But so is Lady Dis, Princess of Erebor, and she has summoned me to these rooms. My suggestion would be to let me pass before she comes looking for me and finds that you're not granting me entrance. I think it would upset Kili, too.”

“Kili will let you see him?” she asked, her mask slipping as she looked down up on him. Her eyes were wide with shock and her face betrayed a hint of jealousy. As soon as Bilbo noticed this, the mask slipped back into place, harder than it had been before. But the damage had already been done. Bilbo could see the hurt in the elf's body language.

Bilbo knew he was overstepping his bounds, but he couldn't stop his hand from reaching out to gently grasp hers. “I've been hurt by a dwarf, too. I don't know if our situations are similar, I highly doubt they are, but perhaps we might find they are easy to forgive them of the things they've done to us. That is, if your dwarf is anything like mine.”

She looked down at him, her mask slipping again only enough to show a sadness that said, yes, she had been hurt by Kili. She stepped to the side, letting him pass. As he crossed over the threshold, he heard her murmur, “Please convince him to let me see him.”

“I will do my best against the stubbornness of dwarves,” he replied just as quietly.

The scene, once he entered the room, made Bilbo's heart seize in his chest. Laying across the foot of the bed, curled up in on himself, was Fili. It was clear by the dark circles under his eyes that he was exhausted. Having a throne thrust upon him when he'd not expected it was taking its toll. While Fili had been trained to take over the position one day, he was still far too young and grossly under prepared for having to take over such a position. If it weren't for the guidance of his mother and Balin, and the support of the company, Fili would have fallen over by now. To Bilbo, it still looked like it might happen.

It was rare to see Fili sleep this peacefully as of late. He'd not gotten a good nights sleep since he'd woken up from his own injuries, only managing an hour or so of nightmarish slumber here and there. Even now, Fili was twitching in his sleep. Bilbo had a feeling that Dis herself was the reason behind Fili getting any sort of sleep at all. For she was sitting on the bed, propped up against the headboard by some pillows, with Kili's head resting on her chest. Her fingers were carding through his loose hair while she hummed a lullaby. Her voice was comforting and hypnotizing, not unlike Thorin's, but distinctly hers.

Bilbo often forgot how young the brother's actually were. In the Shire, their ages number wise were respectable, but as dwarves, they were teenagers, not even into a proper adulthood. It was in this situation that Bilbo remembered this. In rest, they looked young, like they should be. They looked so very innocent that it hurt Bilbo's heart to know that they weren't any longer. The sudden disappearance of Kili's right leg under the covers was a testament to that. Their youth, often demonstrated on their journey, was gone. They were now battle hardened like their uncle. He just hoped their experiences wouldn't jade them and make them bitter like their uncle.

Bilbo watched Dis run her fingers through Kili's hair a few more moments, her voice comforting even him. But he had to look away, he didn't feel right intruding on such an intimate family moment. “I can come back. I don't wish to intrude.”

Dis immediately stopped humming as both her and Kili looked over to him. Kili seemed unconcerned that Bilbo was even there and laid his head back down on his mother's chest. Dis, however, pointed to a well used chair close to her by the bed. “You're interrupting absolutely nothing. Sit down, please, I've much to discuss with you.”

Bilbo held his hands up, backing out of the room. “I think I'll come back. I really don't want to interrupt.”

Dis puffed her chest out, causing Kili to tense up. Her voice was quiet, as to not wake Fili up, but it was stern enough that Bilbo could hear every single word she said. “You will sit down, Mister Baggins, right this very moment. And if you do not, I will start yelling. Should that happen, it will wake my cherished Fili up. If you make me wake my boy up when he needs to sleep desperately so, you will face my anger, which you have not seen yet. I think even you must know a mother's wrath where her children are concerned, yes?”

Bilbo sat. Faster than he'd probably ever sat down in his life.

“Well, at least you have brains in your head, Mister Baggins, but even that is debatable if you're willing to take up with thirteen dwarves being led by my brother.”

She ran her eyes over his body in such an obvious manner that Bilbo wanted to cover himself. He didn't even feel like he was being judged, he knew he was, but for what reason, he didn't know.

“So _you're_ the Halfling?” Much like Thorin upon their first meeting, she didn't sound very impressed with him. She did, however, seemed quite amused by him.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Bilbo asked, quite put out that both the brother and sister seemed to have some of the same thought processes where he was concerned.

“Well you are, are you not? The Halfling?”

“My name is Bilbo, you could try calling me that. And don't you dare compare me to a grocer,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Told you,” Kili whispered to his mother, who laughed lightly.

“Yes, I do see now. It's making more sense to me.”

“What's making more sense to you?” Bilbo asked, becoming quite agitated that he was being talked about like he wasn't in the room at all.

“Your invitation to the announcement gathering.”

Bilbo nearly groaned. He was tired about hearing of such things when no one would give him answers. “Why must everyone speak of this huge announcement? I don't see what the fuss is about.”

Bilbo knew he'd said the wrong thing when not only did Dis look offended, but Kili did, too. Nothing seemed to offended the younger brother.

“Are you joking?” Kili asked, taking his head off his mother's chest. “Bilbo, this is the biggest announcement of Thorin's life and you're involved.”

Bilbo was taken aback by the genuine concern in Kili's voice. So much so that he actually stuttered over his words. “I just...I mean, Balin explained to me how important this was to the line of Durin. And I know I'm 'more important to Thorin than I think', but I still don't understand why me, a hobbit of the Shire, is even being considered...”

Dis cut him off, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Now don't you go putting yourself down because you think you're beneath it all. If Thorin thinks so highly of you that he...” She had to take a moment to breath, seeming all the sudden more overcome with fondness for her brother and Bilbo. “That he is willing to risk scorn from our people by having you here at all, then that is something that you don't question. Do you understand me, Bilbo Baggins?”

“I...yes. I suppose I do understand.” He was alarmed by the conviction behind her words. They'd spoken on a few occasions, but he didn't think Dis knew him well enough to have her react so strongly to him speaking against being at such a ceremony.

And as if she didn't just give him a stern dressing down, he simply asked, “Now what are you going to wear?”

Bilbo looked down at what he was wearing now. He'd acquired a few outfits in Laketown, but they were for children. No one in the town had clothing for a hobbit simply because they never had to make the clothes before. He was making do with what he had and would most likely be wearing the exact same thing on the day of the announcement. “This, I suppose.”

Dis tisked her tongue at him, shaking her head. “Oh no, that won't do at all. We'll have to find you something finer. It'll be last minute, I admit, and it might not be the best fit, but I won't have you looking like a haggard child when we get your answer.”

“I'm sorry, my answer?” Bilbo asked, his eyebrow raised.

“On the announcement,” she replied.

“Oh,” Bilbo said dumbly. “But I've already said yes.”

“Oh my,” Dis nearly howled, barely containing herself so she wouldn't wake Fili. “I wasn't supposed to hear that, but oh my. This is good news.” There was a light in her eyes and certain wetness that spoke of happy tears. Even Kili, who had been looking glum for the past few weeks, looked thrilled.

Bilbo was just very, very confused. “Is it alright if I might go, I'm feeling a bit hungry and Bombur is cooking.”

Dis waved him off. “Yes, yes, go get your second sixes.”

“Second sixes?”

“Yes, isn't that the name of one of your many meals I've heard halflings are so fond of?”

The corner of Bilbo's mouth twitched up. Smiles in Erebor as of late seemed to be rare, even for him. “Yes, My Lady Dis, but I believe you're thinking of dinner.”

“Ah yes, dinner. Very important meal that. Go, I'll have your clothing delivered to your rooms, and you must wear them. No questions asked. I will know if you don't because I'll be there and I will be very disappointed if I don't see them.”

Bilbo nodded, his hand on the door. “By the way,” he said, turning to Kili and Dis. “There's an elf outside your door.”

Kili visibly flinched. Dis ran his hand down the side of his face, kissing his temple. She was shielding his eyes from the door, as if the elf would come in suddenly without their permission. “Tauriel has been standing vigil outside his door in hopes she will see him. He does not wish for visitors not familiar with his situation right now.”

“She wanted me to speak to you, Kili, about letting her see you. She's hurting, I can tell. Why don't you just let her see you?”

“I don't want to let her see me like this,” the dwarf replied, his hand going to rub his leg. “I'm broken.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to reply, but Dis sent him a look that said it was better not arguing. She'd tried to convince him that he wasn't broken herself. And if he wouldn't listen to his own mother, then who would he listen to?

When he exited, the elf Tauriel was still there, still standing just as straight as she had been when Bilbo entered. Though this time, she looked upon him with hope in her eyes. “Tauriel, yes?”

She nodded. “Yes, I am.”

“I am Bilbo Baggins of Bag E...” The idea came to him suddenly. He knew he would probably be scorned for it, maybe even exiled again, but it was risk he was willing to take. If he was as important to Thorin as everyone was making him out to be, he thought that, perhaps, he could get away with it. “Come to this announcement.”

“I'm sorry?”

“The announcement. Thorin is holding a ceremony in which he's making some huge announcement. Kili will be there and I'm inviting you.”

“Do you think that will work?” A slight smile was gracing her features now. The hope was still present in her eyes.

“I suppose we'll find out, won't we?” Bilbo returned her smile, a touch of Took behind it.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

The week since Bilbo found out about the entire announcement ordeal went much like Balin had explained. The some two-thousand plus dwarves had found about the ceremony shortly after he did and had done their best to celebrate with what little they had in a country that was hardly a month into rebuilding. Even though they couldn't celebrate the occasion like they normally would, the spirit of the dwarves of Erebor couldn't be broken. It was still an exciting moment in their history and the few that were there were privileged to see it somewhat exclusively.

The only thing about it was the odd looks a few of the company were giving him. They knew something Bilbo didn't and none of them were telling him what it was. It was quickly grating on his nerves. Even Dwalin was looking at him with a twinkle in his eye, which was something that would give him nightmares for years to come.

He'd eventually gotten so annoyed with the entire secrecy of the ordeal that he'd found himself following Ori into Erebor's, surprisingly, impressive library. What wasn't surprising at all was that, even through all the wreck and ruin that Erebor was at the moment, Ori had found the library. There were few places within the mountain that hadn't been touched by Smaug. The library was such a place. Given that the place was nothing but paper and books, it was amazing that the place hadn't gone up like a torch at the first sign of dragon fire. But no, Smaug hadn't been interested in the library. He was interested in the gold and the treasure that lay within the mountain.

Bilbo had always thought that books and knowledge were far more of a treasure than any gold was. It seemed that Ori agreed because he was the only dwarf who had entered the library since the mountain had been taken back. The youngest dwarfs' company was peaceful. Their silence when they were together wasn't awkward, nor did either of them feel the need to fill the silence with meaningless conversation. It was such a wonderful distraction that Bilbo had nearly forgotten about the upcoming announcement ceremony.

Nearly.

Like Dis had promised, the night before the ceremony was to take place the clothing was brought to his rooms, bringing him back to the reality of it all. They were stocky, made of thick material that all the dwarves seemed to favor, but they were as fine as anything Bilbo had seen in the Shire. The detail wasn't in the pattern of the fabric, like most of his own clothing back home was, but in the stitching itself. The repeating patterns in the stitching were reminiscent of the patterns he'd seen on Thorin's own clothing, though not as intricate. When on, the pants went a little lower than he would have liked, brushing against the bottoms of his calves. They seemed to be a dwarven child's clothing, but not as ill fitted as the clothing acquired in Laketown.  He looked very much like a misplaced hobbit in a foreign land trying to conform to the customs. 

A thought occurred to Bilbo that, given the familiar pattern, the clothing more than likely once belonged to Thorin's younger brother Frerin when he was child himself. For a second time that week, Bilbo's heart ached for the line of Durin. To have gone through so much loss and grief, the family still thrived. They endured despite the obstacles presented to them. They were strong, and would remain strong for all those around them. It was one of the many reasons Bilbo found himself staying in the mountain despite the fact that he missed home something terrible.

The morning of the ceremony, Bilbo took his time getting ready. It was to take place when the sun was at his highest point in the sky. Even though he felt the ceremony didn't concern him, he was still nervous. He was nervous for Thorin, who had to make such an announcement when he couldn't be much better than the last time they'd seen each other.

Bilbo hadn't seen Thorin since that day. He had a sinking feeling that after today, he would be asked to leave. Why he was invited in the first place was beyond him. What was even more odd was that, when the entirety of the mountain had gathered in the great hall, instead of standing in the crowd, the company, minus Dwalin, Fili, Kili, and Dis had pulled him onto the dais which held the throne. It left him feeling altogether uncomfortable, to have so many eyes on him at one time.

The din was rising the closer it got to the actual ceremony. Soon, it became so much that it felt like the entire hall was vibrating with excitement. It all became deathly quiet, though, as soon as Thorin entered. He was flanked by Dwalin, the stout dwarf's arm having to hold Thorin's still weak body up. But Thorin's chin was held high and he still commanded the room with his presence. It was clear from the silence that these dwarves already considered him their king and respected him for his sacrifices to get their homeland back.

Behind him came Fili and Dis, who were pushing Kili in a chair from the kitchens with wheels from a wheelbarrow attached to the legs. If anyone in the room was shocked by the site of one of their princes missing a limb and being pushed around on such a strange mechanism, they gave no reaction to it. Bilbo scanned the crowd, finding Tauriel near the back. There was no look of pity on her face, which he expected to find. All that was there was a look of severe longing aimed towards Kili.

Bilbo had to do a double take, making sure that look was aimed at who the thought it was aimed at. He wondered if Thorin knew of this and what he would think if he didn't.

Thorin stood regal in his dark blue tunic with silver stitching. It pained him to do so, but he would not sit down for this. Dwalin didn't leave his side, always within reach should pain overcome Thorin and he fall. But this was not a day where Thorin would let his weakness overtake him. No, today, one of the most important of days in a dwarven kings' life, he would be strong. Not just for him, but for his people, for his intended consort.

When Thorin spoke, his voice was still as deep as it usually was, but it wasn't nearly as strong. He sounded as though he couldn't catch his breath because simply standing there was taking up too much of what little energy he had.

“I stand before you as king to a mountain reclaimed. Those of you who stand before me are the brave few that would come back to a homeland that has just started to rebuild. For that, you are getting the honorable, distinguished privilege to witness an announcement that is usually made in front of a crowd of tens of thousands. I could have waited until Erebor was stronger, with more forces behind her, but no, I wanted to make this announcement today. I wanted to make this announcement to those before me. For you are the loyal dwarves of Erebor and it is I who am privileged to stand before you, not you before I.”

At this, there was a round of cheers for their king. They knew the importance of such a day. Even Bilbo could feel the gravity of the ceremony in the room. Kili, in his chair, sat up straight, prouder than he normally was.

“I would now have, if he would, Master Bilbo Baggins to come forth and join me.”

Bilbo could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as the entire company, and slowly the entire room as they realized that he was Bilbo, settle on him. Slowly, he shuffled forward to the head of the company, just before Thorin. His stomach was turning and his heart was doing its best to beat out of his chest. It was then that Thorin turned to him, staring right into his eyes. It was so alarming to Bilbo that it made his entire body tense.

“Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, today you stand before me as a friend to the company. But to me, you represent something so much more important than any sort of friendship. To me, you represent something so sacred amongst us that it is treasured beyond measure to our people. I have grown to know you as much as I have grown to care for you. As of late I have realized, no matter how unlikely it seemed to me, that you are, in fact, my One. I ask of you today to honor such a sacred bond.  I ask of you today to be my consort. I ask of you today to let me court you. I ask of you today that you do me the honor of being my husband.”

Even though the speech was short, Bilbo had a hard time processing the information. The words One, consort, court, and husband were flowing through his mind even as he still looked into Thorin's hopeful, impossibly blue eyes. He could hear a rushing going round his head and he was having a hard time breathing. “Air,” he murmured. “I need air.” He had to place his hand over his heart to make sure it was, in fact, still there.

Behind him, Bilbo could have sworn he heard Bofur say, “Think marriage, with Thorin!”

The last thing he saw before the heavy comfort of darkness surrounded him was Thorin's face going from expectant, to confused, to concerned.


	3. Hands of a Baggins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some things that Bilbo really needs explained to him. Ones, for example. But knowing what such is and realizing what it means? Are two completely different things. Clearly, Bilbo Baggins has a lot to think on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, holy cow you guys! Thanks so much for all the kudos and the hits! I feel like I keep saying that, but it's just amazing that you guys keep reading this! It makes me want to work faster to get the next chapter out! I hope you guys enjoy this one! As usual, un-betaed. So if you see any mistakes, let me know and I'll fix them right away. OH! And I'm thinking about making a Tumblr. Good idea? Let me know if I should. I'll post sneak peaks, the playlists, inspirations and just other random crap.
> 
> Chapter Playlist:  
> Thursday – Takenobu  
> Forks and Knives (La Fete) – Beirut   
> Fluorescent Adolescent – Arctic Monkeys   
> Glory – Radical Face  
> Curs in the Weeds – Horse Feathers   
> I Turn my Camera On – Spoon  
> Chopin Nocturne Op. 2 #9 – Seth Ford-Young  
> Landslide – Fleetwood Mac  
> We Can Work It Out – The Beatles  
> Lament – Balmorhea  
> Never Going Back Again – Fleetwood Mac

The first thing Bilbo was aware of when he awoke was the smell of apples and cinnamon. The bed he was laying on was so soft, for a moment, he thought he was back in the Shire. He hadn't smelt or felt anything so wonderful that reminded him of home since he'd left in Bag End. Even Beorn, with all of his comforts, hadn't been able to duplicate the smell of the Shire in Fall. It was only when he stretched languidly that he remembered, no, he wasn't in his comfortable Hobbit hole.

He was in Erebor. In a mountain. Surrounded by dwarves. Including one dwarf that had proposed to him. And then promptly passed out like a swooning maiden.

That made him open his eyes. He nearly groaned from the pressure behind his eyes. It seemed that he'd hit his head on the way down. He was back in the chambers given to him, and he didn't want to think too much on how he'd gotten here. Though the bed had changed a little. He was laying on a fur pelt, which accounted for why he was so comfortable. Atop him were several knitted blankets and quilts. There was a fire blazing in the hearth bigger than he'd ever been able to get it before. Beside his bed was a breakfast tray, though he couldn't see exactly what was on it just yet. From the smell, he assumed some sort of porridge with apples was made.

And beyond that, well, if Bilbo went a little rigid, it was only because his nerves got the better of him. But that was quickly replaced by frustration because a still injured Thorin was sat in a chair, sleeping no less, in a position that wasn't doing any favors to injuries. In fact, he was bent at such an odd angle, his breathing was coming out in wheezing pants. Thorin was cradling his arm close to his body, though in his slumbering slump, it had become trapped between him and the arm of the chair.

Thorin had forgone his heavy overcoat and chain mail for the ceremony. Such things weren't practical for his healing body. He'd shed even more clothing between then and falling asleep on the chair. He was in a simple, dark blue tunic and trousers that would have been heavy on Bilbo, but were light on Thorin. The dwarf had even taken off his boots and socks, leaving him barefoot. His hair had been pulled back and tied at the nape of his neck with a leather strip. While Thorin was fully covered, to Bilbo, he was practically naked.

Bilbo pushed himself up into a sitting position, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Thorin?”

Thorin slowly opened his eyes, only to find Bilbo sitting up. He sat up himself, far too quickly, causing a flare of pain to run down his body. He let out a low rumble of a groan, clutching his injured arm to his side.

Bilbo moved to the side of the bed to reach out for Thorin, intent on helping the dwarf, but something stayed his hand before he actually touched. It was confusion as to why Thorin was even here when he still wasn't well enough. The dark circles that had been under his eyes were even more pronounced than they were before. The way the dwarf held his body told Bilbo that it hurt him to even be sitting. The fact that he'd just went through an announcement ceremony had already put too much stress on his body. Bilbo wanted to fuss at the dwarf, but the pain in Thorin's eyes told him not to.

“Why aren't you in bed? You should be resting,” Bilbo said instead. His voice was quiet and gentle. The crackling of the fire could be heard over him.

“I couldn't sleep. I was worried for you,” Thorin replied. His voice was just as quiet, but it held a gentleness and sincerity that Bilbo had never heard. It could almost be described as tender if Bilbo had ever known him to be as such.

The silence grew around them. Bilbo wanted to very much bring up the fact that the dwarf had all but proposed to him, but he found he couldn't find his courage to speak the words. It seemed as if they were going to sit like this until someone came looking for Thorin. Silent, awkward, wishing for more substance to what was missing. It was Thorin who broke the silence, but not in the way Bilbo would have wished.

“I thought you might be missing your home. I must shamefully admit, the only thing I remember of the Shire was the smell of apples. I had Bombur put apples in your porridge. Nori spoke of sausages you had in Bag End, so I had those made for you as well.”

Bilbo completely ignored the meal in favor of leveling the dwarf with a concerned gaze. “Thorin, why are you doing this?” he finally got the courage to ask.

Leave it to Thorin to misunderstand the question completely.

“Because I have been the cause of you missing far too many of your meals. It is high time for me to start providing them.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to retort, but had to snap it shut again in favor of running is fingers through his hair. At this point, he didn't know whether to be frustrated at Thorin for springing a courtship with a king on him, or for the rest of the dwarves for being so secretive about the entire ordeal. A lot of confusion and headaches could have been avoided if someone had just spelled the entire thing out for him.

“No...” Bilbo shook his head, exasperated. “No, Thorin. The proposal of courtship. Why did you do something so pointless?”

“It is not _pointless_!” Thorin cried.

The tiredness that had taken over Thorin's eyes was replaced with sadness. It was so clearly there that Bilbo couldn't help but feel awful. The only time he'd ever seen such sadness on Thorin's face was when they weren't able to find the keyhole. Only this, this sadness was so much worse. This was sadness that Bilbo could feel in his gut.

“I'm sorry,” Bilbo couldn't help but apologize. “I didn't mean for it to sound like that. I'm just very, very confused because...Thorin? To propose a marriage to me? I didn't...” Bilbo found himself experiencing the same sadness he saw in Thorin's eyes. “You don't even like me.”

That made Thorin's head snap up. His eyes were drawn together in confusion. The wrinkles on his forehead creased together and the creases at the corners of his eyes became more noticeable. He reached out, but his hands paused in midair as if it were a bad idea. Taking a deep breath and finding his bravery, he reached the rest of the way and took Bilbo's smaller hands in his own.

Just in that simple act, Thorin had to close his eyes against the onslaught of emotion running through him. Even Bilbo could feel the significance in the act. This was no hug on a carrock. This was Thorin reaching out, showing Bilbo that the Hobbit was more significant in his world than anyone could comprehend. It was him apologizing for threatening Bilbo's life and making the Hobbit think he wasn't fond of him.

“You are so very wrong, Bilbo,” Thorin spoke, his voice cracking. “You do not even know how very wrong you are. You, Bilbo Baggins, are my One.”

“You keep saying that. Your one. I don't even know what the one is. No one seems to want to tell me.”

Thorin squeezed Bilbo's hands. He was struggling between keeping the tradition of their people and just telling Bilbo everything. But he couldn't. He just couldn't put that sort of pressure on Bilbo. “I want more than anything to tell you, in this you must believe me. But I cannot do so. To tell you everything would be against our traditions. It would mean putting an obligation on you to give me an answer about what I have asked of you. It would mean that any answer you give me would be impure in your intentions. And I want for what we could have together to mean just as much to you as it would to me.”

Bilbo nodded and looked down at their combined hands. His own were soft with a few callouses from their journey. But they were still the hands of a gentlehobbit. They were the hands of a Baggins, though they'd worn the gloves of a Took on the journey. At the core of it all, they were still his own hands and in no way compared to Thorin's, whose hands were so scared and rough from years of hard labor and war. Much like their owners, their hands were so different it was hard to ignore. Indeed, they looked so mismatched intertwined Bilbo felt the need to jerk them back, though he stayed. It made Bilbo think of their differences. He was a Hobbit amongst dwarves.

He couldn't help but laugh dryly. “Thorin, in case it has failed your notice, I am a Hobbit.”

Thorin, of course, misconstrued the meaning horribly. “That is of no importance. Some of our people have married women from Laketown. A few of our women have even married men of Laketown.”

“Nor am I a man of Laketown.” Bilbo smiled softly. For all the experiences Thorin had under his belt, in some things he was quite obtuse.

“I don't see why this matters so much to you.”

“Because, Thorin, it means that I am not familiar with your customs or traditions. I may be a member of the company, but that doesn't make me an expert on all things dwarvish. I'm going to need these things explained to me. I'm going to need to know what to do if or when the time comes. You can't just thrust this upon me and expect me to be alright with it all.”

Thorin opened his mouth, only to shut it again. It was clear the dwarf was thinking how such things could be troublesome for someone who had ever experienced or witnessed their customs. “Yes, I understand how this could be problematic.”

“So can you also understand why I have not given you an answer yet?”

Bilbo hated the look that crossed over Thorin's face. It was one of rejection and loss. Bilbo had been fully intent on saying no. The taste of Thorin threatening his very life was still fresh on his tongue. He missed his home and his books. He wanted to go home, not enter in a courtship with a dwarf he did not understand in the lightest and still felt the lingering presence of a violence. But that look, that awful, horrible look that he'd put there made him think that, perhaps, Thorin was telling the truth. Perhaps he was more important to Thorin than he realized. It made him think back on his own moment of madness in Mirkwood Forest when he'd nearly vomited after realizing how crazed he'd been over a simple ring. Had he not killed a creature trying to get to gold himself? After his own experience with sickness over things that mattered not, he knew he couldn't fault Thorin for his own delve into madness.

It made him realize that he hadn't spent anytime looking within himself to examine how he felt about Thorin.

“I wish to give you answer, but only if you would allow me time to learn what such things would require of me. I have already rushed blindly into one adventure. Though it has brought us together, I cannot rush so blindly into this if it means we are to be married. I would hope such things would require more though on your part if it means the rest of our lives?”

Bilbo gave Thorin a smile. Though it was small, it was genuine, and Thorin was quickly returning it. Some of the sadness was even leaving his eyes, much to Bilbo's delight.

“If time and knowledge are all you seek in answer to a marriage proposal, then I could not be more well off. My grandmother requested jewels so rare it took months to find them. Though I hope you do not take that long, I would give the months to you, along with all the jewels in Erebor if you so asked.” Thorin swallowed audibly, clearly nervous of his next request. “Though I would ask one thing of you while you search for your knowledge.”

“And what is that?”

Thorin let go of Bilbo's hands only to reach into his own trouser pockets. He pulled out a small wooden box, Thorin's seal clearly carved into the lid. He did not open it though. He simply placed the box within Bilbo's hands, curling his fingers around the smooth wood.

“Long ago, before Erebor was taken and I could freely dream of such things, I had this ring made. It is the ring for my consort, my spouse, my husband. It was a ring made to show of our union. After the mountain was taken, I had nearly thrown it away. I didn't think I would ever have a use for it. But now, hopefully, I do. I would ask that you hold it for safekeeping until you decide what to do with it.”

Bilbo resisted the urge to open the box. He knew somehow that opening it in front of Thorin without an answer would be a great insult. He squeezed the box, pulling it close to his body. “Only if you do one thing for me in return.”

“And what is that?”

“You go and rest so Erebor doesn't have an injured king for the rest of their days, you stubborn dwarf. Really, worried of me, a simple Hobbit from the Shire.”

Thorin couldn't help but laugh, though the sound was dry and agonizing. “Alright, yes, I will go. You're starting to sound like Dis, fussing like you do. Though I will insist, you are no simple Hobbit from the Shire. You are my Kurdûn.”

All Thorin could do was smile at the troubled look that crossed over his face at hearing Khuzdul.

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It was rare to find Dis by herself since returning to the mountain. However, she did manage to find time where she was alone, however guilty it made her feel. With a brother that was weaker than he would ever admit, a son recovering from the ordeal of a removed leg, and the other son still grieving over the things he'd seen and lost in battle, she hated leaving them by themselves. But she needed time to reflect on everything that had happened. She'd taken Thorin's strength for granted. He'd always been the strong one in their family, the solid rock on which she'd based her entire foundation.

To see Thorin brought so low was humbling. It made her see that even mountains could crumble under enough strain.

Though there was light and support for Thorin in the form of a Hobbit. It was surprising to her. She'd never thought she'd see the day where Thorin took a consort. But there he was, wrapped up in such a package that Dis never would have thought Thorin to pick him. He spoke of the Hobbit as his One and Dis was not one to question such a statement, for they weren't made lightly. Especially not coming from the mouth of Thorin.

Speak of dragons, and they will come. Her mother had always said that and she was finding that it was true. For interrupting her solitude was one Bilbo Baggins.

“My Lady Dis,” he spoke, slowly approaching her.

“Please, call me Dis,” she replied, her hand waving to a chair so he could sit. “Why do you seek my company this day?”

“I have questions that need answering. Thorin said he couldn't speak of them to me, so I was hoping you could answer them. I figured since you were princess, you would know of the customs better than most.”

A smile graced her features, which she aimed at him. “I figured you would come seeking someone out after you fainted in the Great Hall.”

Bilbo groaned as he plopped himself down in the seat opposite her. “I'll never be forgotten for that, will I?”

She laughed lightly. “You'd be surprised how quickly it'll be forgotten. After all, you're not the first one to faint at such a ceremony. My own late husband did so himself. Though I don't think it was from the announcement itself. If you think my brother has glare, you should have seen my father's. His could melt ice. You can imagine, though, the glare my husband was getting. My father's only girl, announcing she wanted to marry someone who wasn't of her status. It was a scandal! Downright absurd! But we're not here to talk of me, you have questions, go on with them and I'll do my best.”

Bilbo found himself smiling as she talked of her husband. He imaged him to look like Fili, since Kili had the coloring of both Thorin and Dis. It wasn't hard to imagine the brother's father fainting either, considering how they'd all but pushed him into a ring of mountain trolls.

“I keep hearing speak of ones. I don't know what that is, but I'm guessing it's quite important.”

Dis gave him a look that clearly stated 'Are you serious with that question?'. She schooled her features quickly enough. “He was speaking of a One. It is something so treasured amongst dwarves that you will hear us call our Ones Givashel, which is treasure among treasures. To find your One in this lifetime, it is...the most wonderful thing one can experience. You have found the other part of your being. They make you feel so whole and full that you have no room for any other in your heart. Your love will be for them and them alone.”

Bilbo's eyes widened at everything he was hearing. He truly had no idea that he could mean so much to Thorin. “But he's never given me any sign that he feels these things for me.”

Dis was the second Durin that day that Bilbo had made sad with his words. For sadness crossed over her elegant features. “You must understand, my brother has lost so many things that he has loved in his life. He guards his feelings better than a dragon protects their eggs. You must think of anything that he has done that would seem out of the ordinary for him.”

Bilbo didn't have to even think on that. He knew immediately what he had overlooked. In the Shire, it would have been an everyday thing, but for Thorin, is was so shocking that even Bifur cheered. “He hugged me.”

Dis looked far too smug for Bilbo's comfort. “How many people have you seen Thorin touch so?”

Bilbo shook his head. He didn't want to believe it. No, he couldn't believe that he meant so much to someone else that he was the other half of their being. It was something that he'd long ago accepted wouldn't happen to him. The only love he'd ever seen that sounded anything of the sorts was between his own parents. To have that, to have that love and comfort from another being, was too much for his heart to comprehend.

“I don't understand,” he said so quietly he didn't think Dis would hear him.

“That's the thing about love, dear. No one understands it. It they did, it wouldn't hurt so much.”

Bilbo once again shook his head. He had no idea what to say or do or even think. All he could think about was that Thorin had almost been lost and he never would have known any of what the dwarf felt for him. He would have left Erebor for his home, never knowing what Thorin's heart possessed for him.

“What happens now? I don't know what to do.”

“He will give you something, a gift, a trinket, most likely a ring, to let you know of his intentions.”

“A ring! He gave me a ring!”

“It has begun then,” she said with a smile.

“But what do I do with it?”

“If you choose to continue, you will give him a gift of your own. It can be anything, though it must mean something to you. If you need help, I do believe Ori can find you a tome on what certain gifts mean. Different things have different meanings when entering into a courtship. Should he accept, which he will, it is then you wear the ring.”

Bilbo nodded, his eyebrows drawn in concentration. He felt like he should be writing these things down. Though that was what Ori was probably for. The young dwarf probably had everything he'd ever learned about courtship rituals written down somewhere. “The courtship begins after that?”

“No, and yes. After that, you have the purity baths. They are a time of reflection and to remind you of your journey to marriage and that you should remain pure until your wedding night.”

“Purity,” Bilbo snorted.

Dis raised an high arched eyebrow, her shrewd eyes narrowing in on him. “You find something funny.”

Bilbo found he stuttered over his words at that look. It was a wonder the brothers weren't better behaved if a look had ever been turned towards them. “I just..I can't imagine Thorin wouldn't have done...anything...by now.” He gulped, his nervousness showing.

The way Dis leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest made Bilbo's jaw drop.

“Thorin has never lain with anyone?”

“No, neither had I until my wedding night. Most dwarves don't. Did it ever peak your curiosity as to why there are very few dwarven children?”

The thought had occurred to Bilbo, however it was a fleeting thought. He'd never thought such things were important, considering Hobbits themselves had such large broods. There were even rare cases where a fauntling was born out of wedlock. To think that dwarves didn't lay with anyone until their wedding night was a foreign concept to Bilbo.

Dis picked up on his musings. “Are you not an innocent, Bilbo?”

“I...would it be a problem if I weren't?” he asked, his face heating up and showing off a nice shade of red.

“Are all Hobbits so loose with their affections?”

“NO!” he exclaimed in defense. “No at all! No, we don't save ourselves as dwarves do, but we don't go gallivanting across the countryside laying with anything that will have us. It's more of a...it's something we do to feel good. It might mean nothing, but so long as everyone is willing, and no one is getting hurt, it is quite alright. There are no traditions in place to stop one from experiencing...pleasure. No ones honor is being sullied.”

Dis appraised this, taking it at face value and looking no further into it. “Have you ever lain with another male?”

Bilbo nodded. “I have, but it was only an awkward fumbling of sorts that didn't end well for either of us. I have never lain with a man as I have with a woman.”

“Well then, you will be pure in his eyes.”

“Alright,” Bilbo nodded, matching Dis posture by crossing his arms over his chest. “Alright, this is quite an eye opener. I must say, I'm glad that I came to find you and talk with you.”

“And are you any the wiser as to what you might do?”

He shook his head, sighing. “Sadly, I'm not. I think, perhaps, I will need to see Ori and do some reading. Reading always seems to calm me and perhaps I might learn a bit more. You've been wonderful, Dis, I cannot thank you enough.”

“There is one thing you can do to thank me,” she said, almost shy, as if she shouldn't be saying it at all. Though the way her shoulders were squared, he knew there was a seriousness behind her words that he would do well to heed.

“What's that?”

“I know this has all been quite a shock to you, the way it has been thrust upon you. All I ask of you is to not take this as an obligation. If you have no intention of loving my brother, tell him. Do not lie to him, be honest with him. Do not let him believe you share his affections where there are none. My brother has lost enough in his life. To loose his One after being led to believe you love him...it would kill him. And if you hurt my brother intentionally, you will know the wrath of dwarves like you have never known.”

Bilbo took a deep breath, letting the words wash over him. It was quite clear, he had to do some serious thinking and reevaluating exactly what Thorin Oakenshield meant to him.


	4. Home on a Golden Locket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In his heart, Bilbo has come to a decision. He knows it will mean the breaking of Thorin's heart, but when the heart longs for home, it must be listened to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooooow you guys! I'm really feeling the love over here with the hits and kudos! Keep 'em coming! 
> 
> I finally made a tumblr! If you wander over, I've tagged a few things here and there that inspired me visually and will continue to do so. I'll also start posting tidbits of future chapters. Head on over and follow me. I'm blaysonblue!
> 
> Chapter Playlist  
> The Tarlatans newest CD 'Good Luck"

Bilbo had always liked writing. At one point during the journey he'd even entertained the thought of sitting down one day and writing it all down. Watching Ori write during their journey almost daily, if he could manage with all that had been happening at the time, had inspired Bilbo to want to do the same. That thought, however, was quickly becoming something to be put on the shelf. He had done so much writing on this particular day his fingers were in a permanent cramp around a quill.

It had started out with him going to library, seeking out Ori to do research on dwarven customs concerning courtship leading up to marriage. It had taken a good hour and some minutes to find a book on the subject. Ori had never been in the Erebor library and didn't know where any particular book was. He did, however, notice the patterns behind the storage of the books and, once that was down, he could narrow down the location of a book quite quickly.

Bilbo had brought a quill, ink pot, and a sheaf of parchment to take a few notes, perhaps even translate them for future generations of peoples that weren't dwarves needing to learn the same things he was. When the table shook from the impact of the book hitting the surface, Bilbo nearly squawked. He'd never seen Ori mistreat a book and even this tome, it's edges torn and yellowing, was nearly too heavy for the dwarf to carry. Dropping it had been an only option or he'd pinch his fingers between the covers and the table from the weight of it.

Well, clearly there would be no translating for future generations today on Bilbo's part.

“Ori, please tell me that isn't a book on courting traditions.”

Ori, breathing laboriously, looked at Bilbo, who had gone white as a sheet. “Nope. It's EVERY dwarven tradition!” he exclaimed with a smile that said he was proud that their race's customs and traditions could fill such a tome.

Bilbo's heart slowed down just a tad. It was a large book and he was, perhaps, going to marry into the race, so he didn't have to learn it all today. But he was going to have to learn it eventually. He was slowly realizing that Thorin came with a manual. He just hoped that some of the things contained within the pages were old and outdated to the point they'd been long forgotten.

“And how much of that, exactly, is what I need to know about courting?”

Ori opened the cover, flipping through it and running his fingers over the runes Bilbo didn't recognize. The dwarf marked a page a good ways back, continuing until he marked off another page that left a couple of inches between his two marker points. “Just this.”

“JUST THAT!? Do you _see_ how much you're holding there?”

Ori just shrugged. “From the looks of it, it contains everything you'll need to know if you're to do this right. You do intend to do this right, don't you, Mister Bilbo?”

The look Ori gave Bilbo made the Hobbit want to stamp his feet against the floor in childish rage. Bilbo could tell this was important for Ori to see. Thinking on it, Bilbo had noticed most dwarves that had passed him give him the same looks Ori was giving him now. It was a look of hope that such a tradition would still go on now that they had a homeland. They were looks that said their customs had been put to the side while they struggled to find a place in the world where they could feed themselves and put roofs over their heads. Bilbo had gone on this journey to help them do that. Ori, looking at him now, reminded Bilbo of that.

He nodded, his curls falling into his face as he did so. “Yes, Ori. I do intend to do this right.”

The smile on the young dwarf's face was worth the cramps in his hands now. He hadn't taken notes on everything, only the important parts that he would have to remember and look back upon down the road. When he wasn't writing something down that Ori thought was important, he would get a nudge in the side from the dwarf and would point to the parchment.

It was slow going. Ori would read aloud the passages of the book in Khuzdul, his tongue poking out between his lips in concentration. The language was mesmerizing even with Ori's voice speaking it. He would go back and read silently, his finger tracing down the page. It was clear on his face he was having to concentrate on certain parts and reread them so he would be able to understand them correctly so he could convey them to Bilbo.

Bilbo was, once again, reminded how young a few of his traveling companions were. Ori was younger even than Kili in their culture. For someone so young to be not only reading, but also teaching, a custom that wasn't taught until a later age was astounding. The significance of such a site wasn't lost on Bilbo.

“Thank you, Ori,” Bilbo said so suddenly that Ori lost his concentration, and consequently, his place on the page.

“For what?” Ori asked as if he'd never heard the two words spoken to him personally.

“For this.” Bilbo waved his hands over the table which now contained the large tome and scattered parchment papers containing Bilbo's notes. They were spread out in order of importance, the things he needed to retain now were right in front him. The less important things he thought he could come back to later went further out. The outer circle of papers contained things that were important, but they both thought would never be used unless under dire circumstances. The entire table was covered in a semi-circle of notes.

“Not many would take the time to do this. But you are. For that, I can't thank you enough. You have my eternal gratitude. Dori should be proud of you, of how intelligent you are.”

Ori's chest puffed up, smile beaming with pride. “It's not just for you, Mister Bilbo, it's for me, too. It's nice to know these things. You never know when you're going to need them.”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow inquisitively, a knowing smile playing at the corner of his lips. When Ori caught the look, he turned bright red, flustered and embarrassed.

“I'll be able to explain it to others! That's why I need to know these things! It's important, you see?” The tips of Ori's ears had gone nearly red.

Bilbo decided not to push his curiosity of why Ori was so obviously uncomfortable. For now. He knew with his brother's being so overprotective, Ori probably didn't get a lot of opportunities to just sit and talk with someone. And if Bilbo was good at anything, it was listening.

“Do you believe in all this stuff then? The thing about Ones?” Bilbo pushed his papers away and settled his quill in its case. He wanted Ori to know that his undivided attention was on him. And not for research, but as a friend he could talk to.

Ori chewed on his lip, his eyes twitching from the book in front of him to Bilbo. He knew he could trust the Hobbit, but he'd never spoken to anyone of such things. Not even his brothers.

“I won't tell anyone,” Bilbo added, leaning forward just enough that Ori was forced to look over at him. “Not even Dori.”

Slowly, Ori started to nod his head. “I do. But so does every dwarf! Not everyone has a One, though. Only the lucky ones of us get Ones. It's why we treasure them so much. It's the other part of you _are_.” Ori had a dreamy look on his face. He was in a stage where the concept of Ones was less serious and more a romantic, fairy tale notion. “Do you not think that Thorin is your One, Mister Bilbo?”

The question shocked Bilbo and it showed on his face. Out of the few serious conversations he'd had concerning the subject, no one had bothered to ask him if he thought Thorin was the other part of him. Truth be told, such concepts didn't exist to him. To Hobbits, the idea of a One wasn't entertained at all.

“I haven't had much time to think on it, to be honest. I didn't know what a one was until Lady Dis explained them to me.”

“But you do love him, don't you?”

Once again, Bilbo was taken aback by the direct questioning. He should have come to Ori at the beginning and just told him to lay it all out for him and none of this would have been so confusing. “I haven't thought much on that, either, Ori. Can I tell you something? Have it remain just between us?” He motioned between the two of them, leaning closer to whisper even though he could have shouted in the library and no one would have been around to hear it.

Ori nodded, the braids on his chin bouncing. No one had ever entrusted him with a secret as big as Bilbo was about to tell him.

“Before the announcement, I didn't even know he thought of me as his One. I had no idea of his true feelings for me. It scares me. I don't know what to do. I had more of an idea of how to go about things when our journey started than I do right now. I don't know how I feel about Thorin, to be honest.”

Ori narrowed his eyes at him, deep in thought. “Well, you're still here, aren't you Mister Bilbo? That means an awful lot of something for how you feel about Thorin right there.”

Bilbo's eyes went wide at that. It wasn't something he'd thought about. He was still in Erebor, yes. And why? For Thorin. He'd stayed because he needed to know if Thorin would live or not. And he'd stayed once again because Thorin had asked it of him. To that, he had nothing to say. In the moment, he thought he was staying for his own peace of mind. But looking at it now, knowing that Thorin was not well, but on his way to being well, he knew he'd stayed for the dwarf.

He looked to Ori as if the young dwarf could provide all the answers. For right now, he seemed far more wise on the subject than Bilbo was.

“What do I do, Ori?”

Ori looked equally as troubled as Bilbo. He wasn't used to someone asking him what to do. He thought long and hard, too, because if he was to be entrusted with such a question as to give an answer, then he ought to make it a good one. “A list,” he finally said, as if it were the most genius thing in the world.

“Sorry? A list?” Bilbo asked, confused.

Ori chewed his lip, suddenly not so sure it was a good thing after all. But he went forward with confidence to make it sound as if it were still good. “Yes, a list. Make a list of all the things you like about Thorin and what you like about Erebor. Make a list of all the things keeping you here. Then make another list. Only, this one will be things you don't like about Thorin and Erebor and make sure to include things you don't have to stay for. If you can look at that list and the good things are more important than the not so good things, then you stay and you court Thorin.”

Ori smiled, puffing his chest out once again. Yes, that was quite a good way to go about things if he must say so himself. And he was.

And to Bilbo's surprise, well, it was good idea. “Thank you, Ori. I do believe I'll do that.”

“You will?” Ori asked, his surprise matching Bilbo's.

Bilbo nodded. He looked at the piece of parchment they'd been working on. It was gift meanings for if one decided to accept the courtship. They had one and half pages on that alone. In the corner, Bilbo had doodled a little drawing of Bag End, as viewed from the bottom of the hill. The tree sprouted from the top of his hill over it's little round door and stone staircase leading to the cobblestone road. It was clear he missed home dearly. He was still, after learning everything he'd learned of Thorin's feelings and courtship rituals, thinking of saying no. He just wanted to go home. And while he felt something for Thorin, he hadn't yet examined it because he didn't think there was anything to examine.

He signed, looking over the list of gifts. It was supposed to mean something to the sender, something that was close to their heart. “Do you suppose it would be a good idea to have a gift just in case?”

“It wouldn't hurt. Even if you say no, you'll have something to take back with you to remind you that you always have a place here.”

That made Bilbo smile. Yes, he would always have a place here. There was a part of this place, and he had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with thirteen dwarves, that would always hold his heart. But as he ran a finger over his little drawing of Bag End, his heart ached. He craved home so much more than he wanted to examine his feelings for Thorin. He'd promised himself, though, that he would make a decision by weeks end, five days away. By the end of that week he was planning on giving Thorin his answer and, after that, making his way home.

The Shire, where his heart lay.

Which gave him an idea. “Ori, how quickly do you think the jewelers of Erebor could have something made for me?”

“For you, the Kings intended, they could have it by night fall if you go now.”

That had Bilbo rushing, gather up his papers as quickly and as neatly as he could, making sure to keep his sketch on top. “Then what are we waiting for?”

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Come the next day, and Bilbo was no closer to being finished with his list of things he liked about his current situation and things he didn't like. In fact, he'd only succeeded in writing down one thing on each list. Four words total. Of the things he didn't like about Thorin or Erebor was simply written _My Home_. For as splendid and wondrous as Erebor was only a month into reconstruction, it was no Shire. He missed the green rolling hills, he missed the smell of flowers wafting into his window, he missed going to market, he missed the people, as much as they got on his nerves sometimes.

He wanted to go back. He'd gotten his fill of mountains and adventure. He could go home now and be content that he'd gone on a journey that could fill the pages of a book. He could be happy with himself that he'd helped these dwarves, no, his friends reclaim their homeland.

But as much as missed all of that and was willing to pack his bag and leave this moment, there was only one thing that was keeping him here. And that particular thing was peculiar. It was the only thing written on the side of things he liked. It simply read _My Thorin_.

He'd said it to Balin, that the dwarf who'd beckoned to him that day was his Thorin. It scared him nearly to death what that could mean. He hadn't thought too deeply on it. He couldn't make himself do it. He was afraid that if he did, he'd find something that he hadn't known was there before. He'd never loved before. At his age, he didn't think he ever would. He was afraid of the idea of spending the rest of his life with someone who came with a manual. He wasn't cut out for the life of a consort. The only thing he was lord of was Bag End, and he was quite happy with that.

He'd tried to force himself not to think of the things that actually _came with_ Thorin, but only of Thorin himself. Thorin, when he'd first met him, was harsh and mocking. There was no love for Bilbo in those hard, blue eyes. Over the course of the journey Thorin only revealed himself to be cold and calculating. It kept Bilbo on edge at all times. He was always watching his step, making sure to keep clear of the dwarf so he wouldn't have to face that disappointed look Thorin often had when looking upon Bilbo.

It was after the hug on the carrock that Bilbo started viewing Thorin with different eyes. He'd come to learn that Thorin put the harsh and mocking tone in place to protect himself because he'd been hurt so many times. If he was awful to those around him, he wouldn't get close to them and that was one less person who could hurt him. His eyes were hard, but they were covering up the sadness that lay beneath, for they had seen the death of far too many of his loved ones. He was not cold and calculating. He was only ever watching out for those around him, to make sure he wouldn't loose any of them. He wouldn't watch anymore people he loved die. Even if he had to come across as mean spirited, so be it. If it kept those around him alive, it was worth it.

The Thorin Bilbo knew now wasn't the Thorin he'd met on his doorstep. And the Thorin that loved him wasn't a Thorin he knew at all. He wanted to accept that for what it was. He really, truly did. But to be so far along in his life and be presented with the chance to be loved was something he'd never thought would happen. He was afraid of that. He didn't think he'd ever not be afraid of that. He didn't want to examine what he felt about Thorin because he knew that if he did he'd realize that, yes, he did have strong feelings for the Thorin he knew now. That only meant that he'd have to look at who Thorin was to this people, as much as he didn't want to.

It wasn't fair to Thorin, either, that that was something that had to be looked at. It was the life he was born with, however, and any consort he took would have to accept that. Thorin, knowing that, had always tread carefully around others who took interest in him. Most that would come to him were only interested in the riches that came with being King, and not the duties that came along with it. Because there were duties for the consort to the king, as Bilbo had learned the previous day with Ori. So, so many duties. He didn't know if he could be the consort that Thorin would need, that the kingdom needed right now.

Bilbo rubbed his temples, a headache making itself present. He looked at his dislikes list and sighed. The jewelry he'd had commissioned had, like Ori said, been finished quite quickly and was waiting for him that morning. He'd had a golden locket made for himself.  He'd even given up his remaining golden acorn button to be melted down and put in the overall construction of the locket. It was big enough that it fit comfortably in the palm of his hand, but small enough that if he made a fist it covered the trinket completely. Upon the cover, he'd had his drawing of Bag End etched into it. He ran his fingers over the fine work, his heart longing for a home that, for the time being, only lay upon a golden locket.

He knew his journey home would be long and he would wonder why he didn't just stay in Erebor. He'd had the locket made so he would be able to pull it from his pocket and remind himself why he was making the arduous journey again.

Opening the locket, there was enough space inside for a keepsake, one he was to take from Erebor. On his way out, he would pick up a small piece of the mountain that had been destroyed, small enough that it would fit in the locket. If he was ever missing Erebor and his friends, he could simply open the locket and look upon the small stone and remember it all fondly.

He laid the locket down upon his parchment containing what would be his acceptance gift to Thorin. He knew now that it was not to happen. He couldn't proceed with the courtship. The more he thought about home, the more he realized that Thorin, his friends, and Erebor weren't enough to keep him from it. He did want to leave something with Thorin for the dwarf to remember him by, though. If he were to break Thorin's heart, he was going to do it in such a way that the dwarf would have something to destroy if he so pleased. Perhaps even keep if Thorin were feeling fond.

In his research, Ori and he had found a passage about a bachelorhood braid. It was a braid that was only in the hair for a short period of time. In fact, only for the period in which the courtship took place. The braid, once the courtship was completed and the marriage was completed, was replaced with a braid of matrimony. Bilbo would never have a marriage braid, he didn't even have a bachelorhood braid and never would. Once he returned home, he had no plans to ever marry. The only time he would ever be considered a candidate for such a braid would within these halls.

Bilbo had never braided hair before unless it was for a young fauntling lass for play. But with the most concentration he could muster, he began to nimbly braid a small strip of hair behind his ear. It was uneven and far from perfect. If any of the company could see it, they would probably laugh at him until they were in stitches. That wasn't what mattered, though. What mattered was that he was doing it and it would mean something to Thorin.

When he was done with it, he tied it off with a bit of extra thread. A bead would have been preferable, but Bilbo had none of those. He was making do with what he had. Shutting his eyes, he wrapped his fingers around the hilt of Sting, drawing it out. Placing the blade at the base of the braid he cut it until he had the braided strand of hair in his fingers. He sheathed Sting and collected a second strand of thread, tying the other end of the braid off. He would put the braid in an envelope and give it to Thorin when he rejected the dwarf.

He knew he was going to hurt Thorin. It wasn't something he was going to enjoy doing. Thorin had experienced enough heartache and Bilbo was only going to add to it. He had to listen to Dis, though. He couldn't put Thorin through something if his heart wasn't in it. Yes, it was going to hurt Thorin. But Bilbo also knew that if he stayed, he was going to hurt himself in the end. Home would forever have a hold on his heart and he would long for it until he was back.

He clutched the braid to his heart, holding back tears for the pain he knew he was going to cause. He nearly jumped out of his skin and dropped the braid all at once when a loud banging came to the door. Whoever was on the other side of it was in a rush and angry at the same time. Bilbo had a mind to ignore it, not wanting to face whoever was on the other end. He didn't have that option, though, because the banging came again.

“BILBO BAGGINS! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!” came Dwalin's loud, booming voice.

Bilbo placed the braid on his desk and made his way to the door. He tied his robe around him out of habit before opening the door.

“Now what on earth has gotten you nearly knocking the door off it's hinges. I'm sure it did nothing to you other than block you from entering.”

Dwalin gave him a scathing look that had everything to do with being talked down to like that and what he was about to say. “You might want to make yourself a little more presentable and perhaps pack a bag.”

Bilbo's heart dropped. If he was to pack a bag that could only mean he was being banished. The only conclusion he could come to was the Thorin had fallen under the gold sickness again and was banishing him once again.

“Why?” he asked, his face ghostly pale.

“Dain is here to claim Erebor as his.”

“WHAT?! He can't do that!”

Dwalin's lip twitched in disgust. “Unfortunately he can. Our current king, by our people, is unfit to rule in his state. He is injured and it is still unclear if he will recover fully from them.”

“What about Fili?”

“Fili is no better than Thorin. He is barely functioning over grief of his brother's injuries. Dain is fully within his rights to take the throne and it will be given to him.” Bilbo could hear Dwalin grinding his teeth. “I suggest you come to the Hall of Kings immediately.” Dwalin didn't say anything else. He just marched off, his boots stomping angrily against the stone floors.

Bilbo turned around, looking into the room with disbelief. They'd worked so hard, gone through so much, for Thorin to reclaim Erebor for their people and reclaim his rightful place as king. For Dain to come in and take it all from them when he wouldn't help or support in the first place was cowardice. He didn't believe they could do it, and now that they had, he was going to try and take the great dwarven kingdom for his own and have it be great again under his rule.

Bilbo looked to the desk where the braid still lay. He squared his shoulders and gritted his teeth. “No,” he said to the room. “He _**will not**_ take this mountain from them.”


	5. Mouth of a Baggins, Actions of a Took

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo had faced down things far worse than Dain to be afraid of the coward trying to take Erebor from it's rightful ruler. The only question was if the rightful ruler would survive his wounds long enough to actually rule the mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack! The hits! The kudos! The LOVE you guys are showing me. I am still so, so amazed and will continue to be amazed. As usual, no beta. So if you see a mistake, let me know and I'll fix it immediately. I also now have a tumblr. Come on over and follow me! I'm blaysonblue
> 
> Chapter Playlist:  
> A Sunday Smile – Beirut  
> Two Weeks – Grizzly Bear  
> The Rip Tide – Beirut   
> Creature Fear – Bon Iver  
> False Knight on the Road – Fleet Foxes  
> Working Poor – Horse Feathers  
> Let's Go – Danna/Devotchka   
> The Love Me or Die – C. W. Stoneking

The thing about decisions, as Bilbo was finding out, was that you could regret them after you've made them your entire life. But that didn't mean you could change the fact that you made them in first place. There were times on the journey that he regretted running out his front door at all. He had said that adventure was no place for a hobbit and he had been right. Adventure definitely did not suit him at all and he was made of stouter stuff than most hobbits in the Shire.

As it were, he was bad as of late about making brash decisions at the last moment. One of which was the said running out of his front door to follow a band of thirteen dwarves to another world he never would have dreamed of seeing if hadn't. For the record, seeing some parts of the world, like Rivendell and Beorn's house were things about the journey he didn't regret. He also didn't regret making friends with those thirteen dwarves. They would always hold a place in his heart that would never fade or be forgotten.

Those dwarves were the reason for the second most brash decision he'd ever made in his life. Putting himself between one Thorin Oakenshield and an orc intent on taking said dwarf's head. He vowed never to do such a thing ever again in his life for it was one of the single most frightening moments of his entire life. The adrenaline rushing through his body and pain of coming down off such a high was nearly too much for his small body to handle. He was surprised he hadn't passed out the moment his feet hit the carrock.

But he'd been determined to save Thorin because there were twelve dwarves behind him that believed in their leader. Bilbo would not see Thorin taken down like that. He'd not thought about it when he'd done it, but his instincts to help and to save had taken over before he could stop himself. Though the decision to save Thorin had been something he never would have done in the Shire, it was one that he could never make himself regret, not even in the slightest.

The hug, though surprising, had been pleasant. In the area of affection for others, he and Thorin were much the same. They hardly ever expressed affections for others and when they did, it meant something significant. He wasn't aware until he was doing it that he'd been smiling into that hug, happy for once at being the object of such a significant gesture. Little did he know at the time exactly what that hug meant and why the other dwarves, particularly Fili and Bifur, had been so excited about the entire thing.

It was those dwarves that had Bilbo running down the royal halls towards the Hall of Kings. He had no plan in his head other than a shabbily put together one that would take a great deal of slight of hand and understanding of the other dwarves. The latter was the part he was most concerned about. If their late catching on of his plans with the trolls were anything to go by, he knew he was in a good deal of trouble. But that was at the beginning of their journey and they hardly knew him or trusted him. Now they all had an understanding with each other, even welcoming Bilbo into their company as family.

He hadn't even gotten properly dressed or groomed. He was wearing a robe that was loosely tied around a shirt that wasn't buttoned up properly or even tucked into his day old pants. His hair was flying wildly as was the hair on his feet. For what he was about to do, he wasn't nearly as presentable as he would have liked to be. But that's where his stern talking would come into play. If he could face down a dragon, he could face down a dwarf, a cowardly one at that.

As he neared the hall, he could hear shouting from many directions. Surprisingly, none of which was of Thorin himself. It was mostly Dwalin, Balin, Gloin, and Dain. As soon as he entered the hall through a door in the back, he knew why. Thorin was standing, but barely. His hands were balled up in fists of rage and he was shaking. To anyone else, it would have looked like his anger was making his body tremble as such. But to the company, they knew differently. Yes, he was shaking in a fit of rage, but it only accounted for a small part it. The rest of them knew that the stress of just waking, the announcement, and all if his still healing injuries where making his entire body shake. It was why Dwalin and Balin were standing so incredibly close to their king. They knew Thorin was barely standing. They were waiting for him to fall and were there to catch should he do so.

“You can't just come in here and take over when you wouldn't even spare a dwarf to help us gain it back!” Dwalin roared over the din of the crowd.

Not all the dwarves who had recently returned to Erebor were present, but it was a near thing with more spilling in by the second. And every single one of them were whispering behind hands and into any ear that would listen.

“You think I can't?” Dain roared back with far too much confidence. “Look at your king. _Thorin Oakenshield_. Once _oh so mighty_! But look at him now. He can barely stand. Taken over by gold sickness and still injured from a war _he_ caused! What kind of leader is that? I'll tell you! A bad one! One that doesn't care for his people!”

Dwalin nearly uprooted himself from his spot next to the Thorin, but it was Thorin's hand that stayed him.

“We have Fili standing in as Prince Regent,” Balin spoke. He was the calmest speaking of of them all, but the contained rage could be heard behind his voice. 

Dain let out a barking laugh, loud and mocking. “Prince Regent!” he spit. “Just look at him! He's sicker than Thorin is, doting over a dwarf that can't even walk! Tell me, oh great King Under the Mountain, what sort of leader is your Prince Fili making when he won't even leave that useless cripple's bedside?”

It was Dis this time that made a charge for Dain, but there was no one to stop her until Dwalin's arms wrapped around her middle. It was a near thing, though. There was nothing more Dwalin would have liked to see than Dain getting a taste of exactly what Dis was capable of. He, after all, was the one who trained her how to use a sword, specifically asked by her and Thorin's father when she'd first met her husband. She was scary when she was calm. When he was angry, she was more lethal than he was while attacking an entire band of wargs.

This made Dain smirk. “And my point as been made clear. You can't even control your own sister, and you expect to rule a kingdom in your state.”

Dis laughed, loud and menacing. It was was so unlike her normal cheery and light laugh that it scared those around her. “Anyone who ever thought they could control me found themselves on the loosing side of an argument with the tip of my arrow, coward!”

The dwarf this was aimed at flinched, but only barely. Dain looked far too arrogant for Bilbo's liking and he instantly had a strong dislike for the dwarf. Here all the dwarves of the company were, dressed in clothing that had been sitting gathering dust for nearly two-hundred years, while Dain was clothed in the finest materials with precious metals and jewels decorating him. The thirteen dwarves of the company barely had a bead left between all of them, not even a single stitch of jewelry. Well, if Bilbo's plan worked out, that would soon change for at least one of the dwarves.

“ENOUGH!” Bilbo bellowed loud enough that it echoed through the hall, silencing every single person there, including the arguing parties. He pointed a finger on his right hand menacingly at Dain. “I will deal with YOU in a moment. But YOU!” he pointed the same finger at Thorin, “will sit down before you hurt yourself even further.”

Finally Thorin spoke. “I will not sit down while this coward of a dwarf tries to take what we have rightfully earned back!”

Bilbo could hear how out of breath Thorin was. He was struggling and it was worring him. Bilbo turned his back on Dain and gave a stern look that said 'Participate or I will slap you.' Indeed, as he passed Dis, he muttered, “Distract Dain.” Bilbo could have kissed her when she immediately started fighting Dwalin, spitting curses and struggling, trying to get out of his grip to get to Dain. But Dwalin, hearing the words, too, kept her at bay enough that Dain was paying attention to them and not Bilbo.

Bilbo was advancing on Thorin, he took the dwarf's arm, guiding him backwards until he was sitting on a throne, his rightful place. “I am asking you to trust me as you have these past few months,” he spoke lowly and gently. “I know what I am doing, and no one will take your home from you, I promise you this.” He took Thorin's hand in his, slipping something into the king's hand as he did so, Thorin looked confused at the sudden feeling of an item there. Bilbo brought those hands up to his lips, kissing the knuckles.

Bilbo slipped his left hand into Thorin's, the dwarf's face suddenly dawning with realization of what was going on. He was about to speak, but Bilbo withdrew his hand and silenced his lips with a single finger.

“You must trust me and believe that in this, I am sincere,” he spoke, his fingers petting over Thorin's long unkempt hair. As he did so, he slipped a chain over Thorin's head, his hands petting until it was securely in place around Thorin's neck. The entire exchange took place so quickly and efficiently no one in the room noticed but Thorin himself. To the few onlookers not paying attention to Dis and looking at them, it simply looked like an affectionate exchange between two people infatuated with each other.

When the exchange was over, he rounded again, advancing on Dain until they were standing nearly chest to chest. He looked Dain in the eye, giving the other the hardest, coldest look he could muster. The dwarf was taller and stronger than him by far, but right now, Bilbo was more powerful than the dwarf would ever be. While his words were going to be that of a Baggins, his actions were clearly that of a Took.

“You have come here to claim a mountain that you have not earned. I'm afraid that I am here to tell you that will not happen this day or any day after.”

Dain scoffed at him, puffing his chest out in defense. “There is no worthy king under this mountain. You will not stop me, you pathetic halfling.”

“You say there is no worthy king under this mountain, but behind me there are two. One that will have the throne for many years to come and one that will inherit that throne when the time comes.”

“Neither are well enough to rule,” Dain countered. “And you cannot tell me with certainty that they will ever be. There is no one else able to rule, so I will take over this mountain and give these dwarves the king they deserve!”

Bilbo straightened his spine and squared his shoulders, his arms crossing over his chest. “There is no one else able to rule, you say? The consort to the king is able to rule so long as he is well enough and there is the support of the royal council behind him.”

Dain laughed aloud, turning to the crowd behind him and waving his arms as if Bilbo were being the most ridiculous creature he'd ever seen. Except, no one was laughing along with him. “The halfling speaks of a consort to the king. But, there is no consort to the king, he has never taken one in his self-righteous journey to _rule,_ ” he seethed, narrowing his eyes at Bilbo.

“Yes, there is no consort to the king,” Bilbo retorted. “But should Thorin be in a courtship, with his One no less, who is also to be his consort, is just as good, is it not?”

This had Dain shaken. How did a halfling know of their rules and traditions concerning such things? But that was of no matter at the moment. What mattered now was that Bilbo was speaking of things that had not come to pass. “You speak such pretty words on a subject you shouldn't know about. Words with no meaning behind them because Thorin does not have such.”

The smirk on Bilbo's lips made Dain's blood run cold and boil at the same time. “You are so very, very wrong. For you have not met me.”

“And what do you matter in these talks, _halfling_?”

“What do I matter?” Bilbo laughed. “What do I _matter_? I am Bilbo Baggins, and I am to be Consort to the king of Erebor for Thorin Oakenshield is courting me.”

Dain's face grew red and when he yelled, spittle flew from his mouth. “WHAT?!” He took a few deep breaths in, gathering his wits about him as he looked from Thorin to Bilbo. “You are a _LIAR_! Prove to me that you are courting each other.”

“Gladly,” Bilbo drawled, holding his left hand out, upon his finger the consort's ring. He'd never even looked upon it before and, as such, was barely seeing it now. He could tell it was made of mithril, with fine carvings he couldn't make out upon it.

“He placed this upon your finger, did he?”

“He did.” Barely, Bilbo thought. The sleight of hand as he sat Thorin down had worked just so. He was glad he'd payed so much attention to Nori's tricks.

“So you wear the ring of a consort. That does not mean you're courting, you simple halfling.” Dain's sudden bout of confidence had Bilbo worried. Had he missed something in all his and Ori's research that Dain could use for leverage? “But you are just that. A simple halfling. Somehow you know of our customs, but do you know all of them? What have you given our dear Thorin as courtship acceptance, hmmm? You can't just have a pretty ring and think that's it.”

“He has given me a locket with his home upon it in acceptance. Something quite close to his heart indeed, for he misses his home greatly.” Thorin's voice was somber, but everyone in the hall could hear it. When Bilbo looked at Thorin, there was a look upon his face that couldn't be described, because Thorin had opened the locket. It was something he'd hoped Thorin would have waited to do, because inside the locket was his bachelor braid. Bilbo knew that giving someone a lock of hair in dwarvish culture was a declaration of great love and adoration. Dwarves didn't remove hair from their body unless the situation was of the utmost importance.

Dain, knowing he was fighting a loosing battle, was grasping at anything he could to make it turn for the better for him. “And your ritual baths? What of those?”

“Not working at the moment, I'm afraid!” Bofur chimed in. “Last thing to be concerned about, if you ask me. We have all these fine dwarves here, needing homes and food. Thorin and Bilbo's courtship is as good as solidified without the ritual baths, so we were holding off on fixing the baths until everyone was housed. But if it means that much to ya, we'll get right on fixing them!”

“That may be, but I know these dwarves better than you do. Just because you say you're to be the consort to the king, doesn't give you the right to rule in his place. You still need the support of the royal council. You will never have that for there is no one left of the royal council of the line of Durin.”

“You're wrong there, laddie.” Balin stepped forward. “I have been personal adviser to Thorin since he was a wee lad. I, along with Dwalin, have been on Thorin's side since our home was taken. And we support Bilbo just as we have supported Thorin, our king, for all these years.”

The shad of red on Dain's face wasn't natural. There was anger bubbling at the surface and was quickly boiling over. He'd come to claim a mountain, and here there was a halfling taking that away from him. He was insulted. If someone was going to stop him, it shouldn't have been a race that was beneath him. “And how do I know you're not all lying to me to stop me. You keep strange company, Thorin Oakenshield! A thief, a halfling, a wizard. How do I now you're not all liars as well? You're _One_!” he scoffed. “This halfling speaks as if he knows what such a thing means. How dare you insult me by making me believe that your One is such an unworthy creature!”

“YOU!” Bilbo raised his voice, more venom in his words than there had been the entire exchange. “You may come here and try to take this mountain from it's rightful owner all you wish, just know you will never succeed. But you will never, ever question Thorin Oakenshield's claim to have found his One. You will not insult him so. I am to be his consort and I have the backing of his royal council. I have not consulted with them, but I think they would have no problem with me telling you that you are not welcome in Erebor. You will never rule this mountain, and if you did, you would have no one to rule, for I do not know a single dwarf here that would have you as their king. You will never be king under this mountain because you are nothing more than a coward.”

The rage that had been boiling within Dain finally spilled over. “How dare you talk to me, you vile creature!”

Dain's hand came up, his open palm swinging down fully intent on striking Bilbo as hard as he could. He never made contact, though, because an arrow flew by his head and lodged itself into a tapestry right behind Thorin. It flew so closely to Dain's ear that it actually cut a few hairs off his head. Kili's hands immediately went up, proclaiming his innocence by showing he had no bow or arrow in his hands.

Before anyone could speak, the shooter made her presence known with another arrow aimed directly at Dain's temple. Tauriel stood tall, poised, and as determined as she ever looked as she held the weapon in her hand. “If you attempt to hurt Bilbo again, then you will thus hurt Thorin. If you hurt either of them, I will have no problem facing down the punishment I would receive for putting this arrow through your head. Give me a reason dwarf, and I will do it.”

“Kill me, _elf_ , you will start a war.”

“There has already been a war here. No one wants another. And believe me when I say, none of these dwarves here, or elves or men in the surrounding area would be willing to start a war over _you_. Leave now, or you will regret it.”

Dain's eyes grew cold as he stared down Bilbo, then Thorin. “This. Is. Not. Over,” he claimed as he slowly backed away and through the doors at the far end of the hall, dwarves parting and narrowing their eyes at him. He was flanked by the few he'd brought with him and, behind that, the guards of Erebor to stand watch over those who had tried to take the mountain.

Bilbo let the tenseness he'd been holding in his body leave him. But it entered again just as fast when he felt Thorin's eyes boring into the back of his head. He turned, slowly, and meet the dwarf's eyes. Thorin got up, though he was still shaky, and left through the door in which Bilbo had entered. Bilbo followed wordlessly. He knew the shock Thorin must be feeling. Of all the ways Thorin though he would ever enter a courtship, that was not one of them.

The moment Bilbo left the hall, it erupted with noise of every occupant talking, some even cheering about the fact that they still had a home. Though when the heavy wooden door shut behind him, the sound was immediately cut off. The last thing he saw of the hall was Kili, in his chair, entering an awkward stare off with Tauriel.

Bilbo found Thorin leaning against the stone wall, breathing heavily and staring at the open locket in his hand. “Why?” Thorin asked, his voice breaking. He'd never sounded so broken to Bilbo.

“Why what?” Bilbo asked, because Bilbo had just done so much that Thorin could ask why over.

“Why did you do that? You are courting me so I can keep a mountain? Bilbo, you know how I feel for you, but no mountain, no kingdom, no gold, no crown is worth you forcing yourself into something you do not want. You cannot put that guilt upon me.”

Bilbo was immediately in front of Thorin, so close that he could feel heat radiating from Thorin's body. “I gave you a lock of my hair, Thorin. I know what that means. Do I love you? I do not know. But I do know that I feel something for you so strong that I would give that to you. I know that I feel something so strongly that I would not see our hard work given away so easily. I am not doing this for your crown, your people, or your gold. I am doing this for us. Because there is an us. I want to court you, Thorin. I am ready for it. I want to be your consort.”

Thorin shook his head, not believing the words coming from Bilbo's mouth. “I cannot... You cannot be saying these words to me that I have so longed to hear come from you.”

Bilbo's hand came up to slide along Thorin's jaw, his fingers running through the coarseness of the dwarf's beard. His thumb was running gentle lines along Thorin's cheekbone. “I am saying them to you. Thorin Oakenshield, I accept your courtship and proposal for marriage. I am your One and I wish to be so. I wish to be wedded to you and spend my life with you as your husband.”

The laugh that came from Thorin was gut wrenching. It spoke of someone who had known so much heartache that he couldn't believe something so wonderful was happening to him. His own hand came up, covering Bilbo's own hand against his face, leaning into a touch he'd never known. Bilbo, sensing Thorin needed the solid contact of his One, moved forward to slip an arm around Thorin's waist. But when his hand contacted something warm and wet, he drew his hand back, revealing deep crimson.

“Thorin, you're bleeding.” Bilbo pushed away the coat Thorin had put on only to reveal the long tunic he wore underneath was indeed covered in blood on one side.

Thorin looked down at his side. He'd known he had been bleeding ever since he entered the hall. He'd been pushing himself too hard and the stress of the weeks events weren't helping his still healing wounds. “It hurts,” he said in a voice so vulnerable no one would have believed it had come from him. Thorin looked Bilbo in the eye, a twisted smile upon his face. “My One, my _givashel, I hurt so badly. I just want the pain to stop.”_

_ It was the last thing Thorin said before Bilbo watched his eyes roll back in his head and his body fold in on himself and slide down the wall. Bilbo tried to hold him up, but Thorin was too heavy and they both tumbled to to the floor.  _

_ “HELP!” he yelled, though no one was in the hall to help him. “SOMEONE HELP ME!” he screamed again, even as he felt Thorin's breath against his neck come ever slower and the heartbeat under his hand falter.  _


	6. He's Not Heavy, He's My Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out, Thorin's heart is only as strong as Bilbo's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, guys! My internet service has crapped out on us and we haven't had anyone come service it for it yet. The only time I can get on is late at night. Something about a frayed wire? I'm done with our provider, seriously.
> 
> Anyhow, I wasn't going to put blink and you miss it fluff in here. I think it's fluff, anyways, I've never written it before (EIP!). But then BOTFA trailer came out and I'm denying all angst so I put a wee bit of fluff in here. No beta, sorry, sorry, so all mistakes are my own. Let me know if you find anything and I'll correct asap. 
> 
> Come check me out on Tumblr and give me a follow: blaysonblue
> 
> No playlist for this chapter. :(

Bilbo sighed heavily for about the tenth time that morning alone. He could feel a headache coming on, so he pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. He had to make himself take deep breaths so he wouldn't outright yell at anyone. He had to remind himself that everyone in this room was probably just as frustrated as he was.

Normally, he wouldn't be so blatantly obvious with his annoyance, but today it was only him and a few of the company, not an entire room full of dwarves from every guild and craft Erebor had to offer. Those representatives had been present for the most part of the morning until Balin dismissed them for an early lunch. It was more to do for Bilbo's sake than anything. Balin could tell that, after a few days worth of deliberation with the craft masters, he was quickly becoming overwhelmed. It would be much easier on Bilbo if they discussed certain things amongst themselves then presented the ideas to the craft masters.

“You alright there, laddie?” Balin asked, reaching out so he could pat Bilbo's back.

“Yes, yes,” he lied. He sighed again when Balin raised an eyebrow. He was too wise for his own good sometimes. “No, I'm not. I don't know how Thorin does it.”

“He had a lot of preparation with Fili and Kili,” Dwalin joked, getting light chuckles from the rest of the room.

Around him were the dwarves he'd added onto his personal council with the approval of Balin and Dis. There was, of course, Balin and Dwalin, followed by the rest of the company. Bilbo felt that every single one of these dwarves deserved to be in this room with him, advising him on how to restore and rebuild the mountain in a fashion that Thorin would have done. Even Ori was there, as shocked as he was. He'd never considered himself adviser material, even his brothers were reluctant to let Ori in on the council, but Bilbo was adamant. Ori had proven himself invaluable to Bilbo, he even broached the subject of Ori becoming the master scribe, which had Ori stuttering.

Fili and Kili were sitting at the table also. Fili looked guilty that Bilbo was taking on the duties that he was supposed to be looking after, but Bilbo had assured him many times that he didn't mind. It was Bilbo's job now as intended consort to the king and it was a job he was taking seriously. It was clear to everyone in the room that Fili was in no state to make any sort of decisions for the kingdom while he was still suffering. It wasn't clear who needed more support from who. Kili was nearly leaning on Fili from exhaustion of his wounds. Fili's only source of comfort from his troubled mind came from Kili. It was a vicious cycle that no one, not even Dis, could do anything about.

Dis had been running herself ragged. Between her boys and Thorin, she looked to be nearly falling over from fatigue. Bilbo had wanted to ask her to be on the council herself, but when he saw the tired look in her eyes, he just smiled at her. She nodded at him, understanding between them without words. “You're a good hobbit, Bilbo Baggins. I'd almost say that my brother doesn't deserve you but I can see you're the type that people don't just deserve. They earn you, of a sorts, if you get my meaning,” she'd said.

Bilbo did know what she meant. “Sort of like you,” he replied. For her to stand up to Dain and try to come to blows with the larger dwarf was something that, not only did Bilbo secretly want to see, but was impressive. She was a strong, steadfast woman that didn't stand down easily to anyone. He could see why Kili's eyes were often found wandering over towards Tauriel, which was something that was developing before everyone's very eyes, much to the amusement of Dwalin.

“Make sure she's an elf maiden,” Dwalin had all but roared when he'd caught Kili's eyes following Tauriel's form as she left the room. It had left Kili red as one of Bilbo's prize winning tomatoes.

The entire company was surrounding the table, but upon it was a vast array of parchments, all containing requests from various guilds for more space, materials, and resources for their craft. It was the reason for Bilbo's current headache and why the various masters had been dismissed. None of them could seem to agree on whose craft deserved more attention than the other.

“I'm just trying to point out that, while I see the importance of a jeweler's guild and miner's guild, they're not as important at the moment as our tradesmen or our chefs and food growers,” Bilbo explained for what seemed like the thousandth time that week. Every time he did, Bombur would swell up with pride.

“I'm not saying the miners aren't important though!” he made sure to put in when a few of the dwarves narrowed their eyes at him. “It's just, we've seen the treasure room. There is plenty of gold and jewels within this mountain that we can hold of on mining for them for a bit. I'm not saying a long time, just long enough to set up other areas of importance. The miners could help rebuild and restore the parts of Erebor that suffered from Smaug so we might accommodate everyone, because more and more dwarves are coming every week and we won't be able to house them all. That for the most part is the most important, yes? There's not point in having a reclaimed home if there are no homes for everyone coming in.”

Bilbo reached in front of him, pulling out a map of Erebor and surrounding areas. “That brings up the next issue. We need to feed everyone. The land around the mountain is barren, nothing will grow there. The only land that will grow anything at all are the areas around Dale.” As Bilbo suspected, this made everyone uneasy. While there was a truce between the dwarves of Erebor and the men of Dale now, it was unstable. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that they wouldn't be allowed easy access to lands surrounding Dale.

“It's why we need our tradesmen catered to. If we can set up a truce with Bard, which we _will_ be able to because he's reasonable, then perhaps we could get some sort of gardens growing.”

Ori made a face at that, clearly about to say something about green food.

“And if we do that, Ori, that means we'll be able to help sustain animals, which brings meats. But it will take no small amount of tact and grace, and perhaps some gold, WHICH!” Bilbo said louder than necessary because he could see a few of the dwarves grumbling, “was promised to them by Thorin, if you don't remember, and I'm more than willing to give up my share to the town. We have to work on making Dale successful. Because without a thriving Dale, Erebor won't thrive. We have to work together as a team. While we were once both established towns and kingdoms, we're both weak right now. We need each other. There is no shame in admitting that.”

The entire group at the table, save for a few, wanted to argue with Bilbo's words, but they saw the truth in them so they kept quiet.

“Aye, laddie,” Balin said, once again putting a hand on Bilbo's shoulder. “Thorin would be proud of you, you're making a good and sound leader. You'll balance out his stubbornness quite nicely.”

Bilbo wanted to smile at the compliment, but he couldn't find the energy to do it. He really didn't know how Thorin did it. He was loosing steam by the day and it was getting harder and harder to force himself to get up in the morning. It seemed that the very stones of the mountain were draining his energy and will to carry forward.

“We need to set up a truce with Bard as soon as we can,” Bilbo said. “At first light, we'll send representatives to work with him and we'll send plenty of gold along with them.”

“Aye, but who will we send, laddie?” Dwalin asked.

“I was thinking about Oin, Bofur, Fili, and Kili. I know tensions between our people are hard right now, but if what I've been told is true, Bard, as well as his children will have a soft spot for you four. You saved his children from orcs. He won't soon forget that.”

“But Kili cannot go! He cannot walk!” Bofur protested.

“Then I shall carry him!” Fili quickly objected. “He's not heavy, he's my brother. He is not a burden to me!”

“Indeed,” Bilbo agreed. “Besides, it would do them both good to get out of the mountain. Kili needs to learn to function with his injuries. He's not useless just because he's missing parts. You are stronger than you think and it's time you saw that.” Bilbo aimed the latter part directly at Kili.

“But what will mum think? She won't allow it!” Fili mentioned.

“I'll deal with your mother,” Bilbo countered. “Besides, you're taking Tauriel with you, also. I think that will ease Dis' mind in sending you. And Bard's children, I've heard, are fond of her as well.”

“You want us to ask Tauriel to go?” Kili asked nervously. They'd seen each other and spoken on a few occasions since the battle, but he was still self conscious around the she-elf where his injuries were concerned. He couldn't see how anyone such as her could love him before when he was whole. Now that he was damaged, he was utterly perplexed as to why she still sought him out.

Dwalin smirked at Kili across the table. “I hardly think you'll have to ask her, laddie. She'll follow you out of the mountain regardless of whether she's invited along or not.”

Kili was once again blushing. “Still, it would be nice of us to at least let her know so she might prepare.”

“Agreed,” Bilbo said. “If no one else has anything to add?”

“No, laddie. Get back to Thorin,” Balin said with a knowing light in his eyes.

Bilbo wanted to be annoyed but found that he couldn't because Balin was right. He was leaving the council room to go directly to Thorin's bedside. For the past two weeks it was the same routine. In the morning and afternoon hours, Bilbo would meet with the council and the craft masters for planning and the like. When they would break, Bilbo would make the trek from the council room to Thorin's personal chambers. Everyday he would open the door, hoping to perhaps see Thorin sitting up, but it was never so. He knew better. In any event, he would be alerted to any development concerning Thorin, should he be in council.

Today was no different. As he opened Thorin's chamber door, the dwarf was still laying in the middle of the bed, unmoving. He was wearing naught but a loincloth and the bandages that still covered his few remaining open wounds. At first, he'd been reluctant to look upon Thorin with so few clothes covering him, but the initial shyness went away when he came to accept Thorin wasn't dressed for his own viewing benefit, but for Thorin's himself. Whenever they put blankets over Thorin, the dwarf would twitch uncomfortably in his healing sleep. Even the blankets atop him caused him discomfort.

The only break from the routine was that today, instead of sitting in her chair by Thorin's beside waiting for Bilbo to relieve her, Dis was gently running a wet cloth over Thorin's skin, bathing him. She was humming softly as she worked. She looked serene and at peace, but to anyone who knew her, they could see the weariness on her face. Like Bilbo, she was unnerved by the fact that Thorin had not woken yet and didn't seem have any inclination to anytime soon. Indeed, Thorin's chest fell and rose unsteadily and with a wheeze at every outward breath. Everyday, his heartbeat grew slower and weaker to the point that it felt like it wasn't beating at all. Thorin was a strong dwarf, but this was perhaps the thing that would take the dwarf into death. Bilbo would be a widowman before he even married.

“Oin, Bofur, Fili, and Kili are going into Dale to speak with Bard about our two cities working together. I'm sending Tauriel with them.”

Dis startled, nearly dropping the cloth, but she was quick to regain her composure. She hadn't known Bilbo was standing in the room. “She'll be able to look over them? Help them when they need it?”

Bilbo nodded. “I figured it would be good to have Fili and Kili out of the mountain, have them active again. Perhaps give you a bit of a break.”

Dis' looked up, guilt in her eyes because, yes, she did need a break from everything. She loved her boys and her brother, but she'd been strong for far too long. Thorin had always been her rock and, when he left for the journey, he was no longer the support she was used to or needed. “I...thank you. But what about you, Bilbo? When are you taking a break?”

Bilbo chewed his lip. He stood next to the bed, looking down upon Thorin with sad and tired eyes. “I don't think any break will help me until he is awake and I know he is alright.” Bilbo reached his arm out to run his fingers through Thorin's hair, but he stopped himself. If he did so, all he would encounter would be oily hair and cold, clammy skin. It would remind him of how close Thorin was to death.

Dis watched Bilbo pause, her eyes widening as she gasped. “You look awful, Bilbo. Almost as close to death as Thorin himself.”

Bilbo's eyebrows rose as his gaze snapped to Dis. He knew she was blunt, but he didn't realize she could be _that_ blunt. “I...um...sorry?”

“No, really. Everyday I see you, you look worse and worse!” She sounded far to excited about the entire prospect for Bilbo's liking.

“Well, you don't exactly look like a spring chicken yourself!” Bilbo shot back, anger rising in his voice.

Dis waived his insult off. “Please, I've had two boys and my One has passed. Even if I do get anyone looking my way, I'm not entertaining them. But I'm being quite serious, Bilbo. This isn't an uncommon thing between Ones. When one suffers, so does the other.”

“Dis, you're forgetting. Hobbits don't have ones.”

“No! They don't! But you are Thorin's One and the bond between Ones is strong, even between those dwarves who take a spouse who isn't a dwarf. It's your being's combining, becoming one entity. The magic between Ones is quite strong and undeniable. I don't know why I didn't think of this before!”

Bilbo wasn't quite following her. “That pertains to me looking horrible _how_?”

Dis looked like she had just discovered another secret entrance to Erebor she was so relieved. “When I was pregnant with Kili, it was a difficult pregnancy. It's quite rare to have two children so close together and it often leads to trouble for those bearing the child. I almost lost the life of Kili and myself during the birthing process. I was in a healing sleep for a week. If it weren't for Vili staying by my side, talking to me, my life would have been claimed.”

Still, Bilbo was confused and it showed on his face.

“Bilbo, don't you see? You are Thorin's true One. He wasn't lying when he told you that. As his condition worsens, you bear the affects of that. You might not fade with him, but your spirit will never be the same, much like mine when Vili died.”

Bilbo's heart started beating rapidly as he listened to Dis' words. He didn't want to believe what she was saying. He didn't want to think about the fact that, perhaps, he had the ability to heal Thorin this entire time and had done nothing about it. “What are you saying, Dis?”

The relief Dis was experiencing, along with all the stress she'd been under, was causing her to become so emotional she started to cry. Not great sobs, but a gentle trickle of tears that spoke of hope for someone she thought lost to her. “You have the power to heal him,” he spoke gently.

Bilbo's heart nearly stopped. He didn't want to believe it. He couldn't believe it. If there was any chance that he could heal Thorin like Dis was telling him, he would do anything in his power to do it. “What do I need to do?” he said it a voice so soft it was hardly heard.

“You talk to him,” she answered, reaching over to take his hand.

“I talk to him?” he asked with incredulity. “About what?”

“Anything, just so long as you're talking to him, letting him know you're there. You touch him, you lay by his side. Contact between the two of you is very important, your spirits will connect in doing so.”

“We aren't married, though. Won't laying next to him be a problem with your customs?”

Dis paused long enough that it made Bilbo think she hadn't adhered to dwarvish customs as strictly as she should have. “Thorin has hugged you, Bilbo. Clearly a little bit of contact between the two of you won't be a problem.”

Bilbo nodded, once again looking down at Thorin's prone figure. He was still not believing this could be possible. They had no such healing abilities between hobbits in the Shire. He did reach out this time to place his hand on Thorin's forearm. As he suspected, Thorin's skin was cold and clammy.

Dis sensed this unease within Bilbo. “What holds you back, Bilbo? Why are you so reluctant in this.”

“I'm not. Not really. I'd do anything to save Thorin.”

“Yet you stay where you are.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to speak, yet no words would come out yet.

“You're afraid he'll hurt you again should he be completely well.” It wasn't a question, it was an observation that was so very true.

Bilbo's mouth snapped shut. He nodded, quick little jerks of his head up and down.

Dis came around to Bilbo's side of the bed, her hand reaching out gently stroke down his cheek. “I understand your reluctance. But, Bilbo, if he hadn't done to you what he had done, and I assure you, he feels more guilt than you will ever know for that, would you be so reluctant?”

Bilbo didn't know how to answer that. He wanted to say yes, but he knew the answer to that was no.

“Thorin has always been the foundation that has kept me strong, Bilbo. I cannot bear to see him this way. It doesn't sit right within me to see him so weak. And for once, I am part of the foundation in which he is resting to he might be well. I have no problem with this, you see, because he's my brother. He's not heavy. He's no burden to me. But just like the pillars that hold up this mountain, one alone cannot do it, especially when there is a stronger one that can do so much more. You are that Bilbo. You are the strongest pillar for Thorin. You suffer along with him. As he grows stronger, so do you. You need each other. That does not make you weak to acknowledge that.” She laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing in a comforting way that only a mother could provide. “I must go see my sons before they are to leave.”

Bilbo nodded, a weak smile on his face.

Dis made her way out, but paused at the door. She she turned to face him again, a mischievous smile was upon her face. It unnerved Bilbo, for it could mean nothing good. “You must also remember, Bilbo, that many a dwarf would envy you, looking upon Thorin as you have for the past days in such a state of undress.”

Bilbo sputtered at that, the blush that was rising in his face only making Dis smirk. Before he could retort, she shut the door behind her, leaving him to face Thorin alone.

Once again, Bilbo found himself pausing and starting again. He kept moving to sit on the bed, but stopping himself just as he was bending over. He'd never been one for bed talk, not that he'd sent anyone packing after he'd coupled with anyone, he'd just never been one to sit around and chat. He'd especially never chatted with anyone who wasn't conscious.

Shaking his head at himself for his cowardice, he finally just sat down on the edge of the bed. He reached out, taking Thorin's hand in his own smaller one. “I, um, don't know what to say? I've never actually talked to someone who couldn't talk back to me. Unless you count my plants, but that doesn't count. That's more me talking...to myself. Which is what I'm doing now. And I feel...crazy doing it. I swear, if Dis has Nori spying on me in here.”

At that, he looked around the room, as if speaking the words would make them true and Nori would appear because he'd been acknowledged. “Or perhaps Fili or Kili. That's something they would do, isn't it? You know them better than I do. So much better than I do,” he sighed.

“That's the problem, though, isn't it? You know everyone here so much better than I do. We're practically strangers, you and I.” Bilbo pulled his legs up, folding them under himself. “I know Thorin the King, and I know I'm marrying Thorin the King, but I want to marry Thorin without the title.”

Bilbo chewed his lip. If he was in for a copper coin, he was in for a gold coin. He laid down next to Thorin, stretching out. He wasn't touching Thorin except for their linked hands. He studied Thorin's sleeping figure as he lay there silent. Dis was right, he had been looking at Thorin in a not so innocent way. Thorin was pleasing to the eyes, he had to admit. He was so un-hobbit like. He was muscular, even for dwarven standards. But it wasn't lean muscle, it was thick muscle, strong muscle, muscle that had seen battle, muscle he wanted to reach out and run a hand over. Bilbo had to shake his head to rid himself of those thoughts before he actually acted on them.

“I suppose what I'm saying is that, I want to know Thorin the dwarf. I want to know what your favorite meal is. I want to know when you go to sleep at night, if you're an early riser, what color you like, what you like to do when you have nothing else to do.” Bilbo reached up, tucking Thorin's hair away from his face. “I want to know how you take your tea.”

Bilbo shut his eyes and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Thorin's temple. Breathing deeply and slowly, the smell of Thorin's hair and skin invading his senses, Bilbo fell asleep.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Bilbo awoke the next morning to someone coughing, but when his head shot up, it was with disappointment that he found it wasn't Thorin. The dwarf was still eerily still. He laid his head back down, his pillow a bit harder than it had been the night before. However, when the coughing came back, followed by snickers, he opened his eyes again.

During the night, he's shifted so that his legs were tangled with Thorin's calves, his arm was outstretched over the dwarf's midsection, and his head was using a furry chest as a pillow. All would have been well and good, he would have moved away when he awoken, but that wasn't meant to be. Simply because of the fact that Dis and Dwalin had come into the room, Dis to take care of Thorin and Dwalin to seek out Bilbo.

“I see you've taken my advice,” Dis said, her amusement politely contained.

Dwalin, however, was a different story. Nothing was contained about him. “And made yourself quite comfortable. Tell me, laddie, what's it like to be wrapped around a body like that?” That time, Dis actually did laugh.

Bilbo was about to say something inappropriate to Dwalin, but his words died in his throat as he noticed something underneath his cheek. He pressed harder into Thorin's chest, mindful not to hurt him, his hand coming up to also press. He looked at Dis, disbelief written all over his face. “His heartbeat. It's...it's _stronger_.”


End file.
